Specter
by mandorac
Summary: Can Sam and Quinn's love transcend different dimensions? An AU story. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**Specter~Chapter 1**_

"I'm going, Lucinda, and nothin' you say can stop me!" Sam said to the pouting blonde girl standing in front of him.

The day was a glorious Maine fall day in 1852 and 17-year-old Samuel Evans just found out that he could join the crew on the new Battenfield Company schooner, the _Lizzy Dean_, named for the captain's daughter. This was his opportunity, to show his worth on the vessel and earn a living wage to support himself and, his plan was, Lucinda in the future.

However, Lucinda Fabbrae, with all her 16 years of wisdom from living in Battenfield, Maine, on the coast of the mighty ocean, knew what happened to men on the schooners in foul weather, fog, or if the captain of the ship was in his cups. Her grandfather had perished at sea when she was 9 years old; she _knew _what could happen. Sam knew the dangers, too, having grown up alongside Lucinda in Battenfield, his father, uncles, and cousins all having earned a living on the sea. They all lived to tell their stories of storms and running aground and fighting off pirates; Sam yearned to live that life.

"There's work to be done here, Sam Evans! You could-you could-_build _the ships! Many men do that proudly!" she retorted, stomping her tiny foot. She would have crossed her arms in defiance, but she held a basket of eggs in front of her. Sam had caught up with her as she made her way to town to sell the eggs. He just had to share his good news with her.

Of course he knew he could learn the ship building trade; however, that was left for the men not brave enough to dare the seas. He had heard the crewmen laugh about the "land-lovers," and there was no way he was going to stay on shore while the others experienced high seas adventure.

"The _Lizzy Dean _is a very sturdy vessel," he said, hoping to convince her. "Artie Abrams helped build it!"

She rolled her eyes. "That's a silly name for a boat!" She knew Elizabeth Dean and the girl was as scatterbrained as a chicken. She also knew Artie Abrams, and he was a natural genius at ship building.

"I won't be goin' alone, Lucindy...Finn Hudson has signed on too," Sam told her, still trying to sway her. Finn was the beau of her acquaintance, Rachel Berry, and Sam called her _Lucindy_, a special name only _he_ called her.

She began walking again, her nose pointed toward the sky. Over her shoulder, she said, "I thought you were fond of me, Samuel Evans!"

He stood there, his feet not moving. Oh, he was fond of Lucinda Fabbrae alright, _very_ fond of her. He thought she knew that since they had basically spent all of their free time together the preceding summer, when he would hold her hand and steal kisses from her in the moonlight, not to mention the time after a church picnic in the meadow when things almost went too far. He watched her petite figure walk away briskly, her navy blue dress whipping around her feet, strands of blonde hair escaping her white bonnet. He suddenly ran after her.

He grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him. "I _am_ fond of you, Lucinda Fabbrae! I'm doing this for us."

She gazed into his blue-green eyes, a blue the color of the sea sometimes. "It sounds as though you're rightly doing it for yourself," she sniffed.

She turned to walk away again but again he stopped her.

"No...for us...I want to be your husband and I need to do this job to convince your pa to let me marry you," he said finally. He watched her chew on her bottom lip. "I promise you I'll be back, Lucinda."

Her eyes shone brightly in the sunlight, her pupils almost gone, making the strange defect in her right iris even more noticeable to him.

She studied his face. His words were spoken in earnest. She knew how he felt about her; he had expressed it several times during the summer months when he would shyly touch his lips to her when walking her home and the time in the meadow, when his breathing had been heavy and she had said they needed to be married before anything else happened though she longed to be with him in every sense of the word. She should've known he'd choose to work on a boat. She knew, as well as he did, that that was where the best money was to be had, given the level of danger associated with the nature of the work. She thought of her father and uncles and cousins and how they all were crewmen or captains. They had all survived the treacherous ocean and returned to tell about it. She also knew how worried her mother would be while they were all out to sea, the creases in her forehead always present, her eyes always tired. Lucinda also knew that her family did not want for anything; her father provided very well for them. She sighed and kicked her toe in the dirt.

"When do you set sail?" she finally asked him quietly.

He broke out in a big smile. He had her approval, and, with a few dollars in his pocket soon, he'd be able to ask her father for her hand.

_xxxxx_

Two weeks later, she stood on the Battenfield pier in the sun and watched the _Lizzy Dean _set sail on her excursion southward to Portland. On the way to Portland, they would be lobster fishing; in Portland, they would sell the lobster and pick up supplies for the townfolk, then return. All in all, depending on weather conditions, they'd be gone about a month.

Families of the crew had gathered on the pier to see them off.

Sam stood in front of Lucinda, wary of her father nearby. He would be on the ship, also, as it turned out. All she had heard from Sam the past two weeks was how exciting this would be, the adventure was calling his name...she pretended she didn't care when, in fact, she did.

Now, standing with her on the pier, the brand-new schooner moored not ten feet away, it all became very real to Sam. He kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"You have my promise, Lucindy...I'll be back for you," he told her again.

She nodded and smiled, holding back tears. "I'll be waiting for you."

He pressed something cold into her palm, embraced her quickly, and ran off to the schooner to take his place.

She watched as the ship was cut loose and bobbed and floated on the choppy water until the wind picked up her sails and took her out to sea. She waved at Sam and her father and the others and returned home with the ones left on the pier.

In her hand, she found an irregular piece of silver, twisted into a ring. She smiled and slipped it on her small finger; it fit perfectly. She had no doubt that he'd be back for her.

_xxxxx_

Word around Battenfield was the _Lizzy Dean _made it to Portland in good time due to good weather. Captain Dean sent word to the townfolk to inform them they were on their return trip back home. Lucinda received the news when she walked to town to sell the eggs at the general store. She listened with interest, twisting the silver ring on her finger the entire time. She knew how persistent Sam was and how he had probably been pestering her father the entire trip.

The weather stayed nice for the next few days, then a cold rain moved in. Lucinda didn't think the rain would ever stop. Every day, she'd wander out to the pier and watch the choppy waters, looking for any sign of the schooner, knowing it was still too soon for them to return.

She woke up one day to dense fog and knew that that was not a good sign. She could barely see to collect the eggs in the chicken coop. The walk to town was quiet and lonely. How nice it would be to have Sam appear out of the fog and walk along with her? She missed him so, more than she had expected.

The fog would not dissipate. If anything, it worsened. But, they were used to that in Battenfield. She overhead the older fellows talking about Captain Dean's prowess as a man of the sea, his many years of experience on the high seas, and they had no doubt in his abilities so neither would she.

Until the sound of a ringing bell woke her from slumber in the middle of the night. The bell was a warning, calling out all men and able boys to meet in town. Something was terribly wrong; the bell was only sounded for a tragedy, such as a fire, war, a shipwreck. She pulled herself from her bed, along with her sisters and mother, dressed in a hurry. Lucinda helped her mother hitch the horses to the wagon, they loaded up and went to town. A ship had wrecked into an outcropping of rocks near Battenfield; word was it was the _Lizzy Dean_.

_xxxxx_

The _Lizzy Dean _was shredded by the rocks. There were no survivors. The men of Battenfield had the gruesome task of retrieving bodies as they washed up on shore, then burying them. Lucinda waited every day for Sam to be found. Her father's body had washed up the night of the shipwreck and had since been buried. Sam's friend Finn had been found and buried. On the day they decided to stop waiting for anymore bodies of the crew, Samuel Franklin Evans was found.

Lucinda attended the burial at the only cemetery in Battenfield; Sam's grave marked with a simple cross, his initials and the year carved in it. After the grave had been filled with dirt and the men left, she knelt at the graveside, placing some wildflowers at the cross. She wiped away a few tears; she knew there was no sense in crying; it wouldn't make him live again.

"You kept your promise, Samuel Evans...you came back to me," she whispered in the quietness. "And I'll always be waiting for you." She thought of the tender kisses they had shared many times. She thought of how happy he was when he first approached her with his idea of sailing, the adventure, the money he'd make, how he'd come back and ask for her hand in marriage. She decided then and there that that was how she'd always remember him.

_xxxxx_

_The Battenfield Times-Tribune_

_September 1, 1916 – Ms. Lucinda Q. Fabbrae, 80, Battenfield resident her entire life, passed peacefully in her sleep at the Arthur Abrams estate. She had resided there the last 50 years. A daughter of Russell and Judithe Fabbrae, both of Battenfield, Ms. Fabbrae lived her life as a saintly patron of God, childless. Her father was a victim of the 1852 Lizzy Dean shipwreck. She then assisted in the care of her mother until her mother's death in 1866. Two sisters deceased. Ms. Fabbrae was interred at the olde pioneer cemetery of Battenfield at her request in a private ceremony._

**A/N: I hope you like the beginning. I've been working on this story for some time now so please read and review and I'll upload the next chapter soon. :) Thanks, as always!**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Specter~Chapter 2**_

_Spring 2012_

Her classes were _finally_ getting interesting. She was nearing the end of her junior year at the University of Mary Washington, studying historic preservation. The first two years were mainly pre-requisites; now, the classes were more specific to her major. She had chosen this school because of its proximity to Washington DC and all the history that entailed. Historic buildings and architecture had always intrigued her and when she found out she could actually study it in college she was all _sign me up!_

There was just a couple months left of the school year and it was time to register for classes for the fall, her senior year. She couldn't believe time had flown by so quickly. As she sat in a course about the National Register of Historic Places, her instructor began the lecture talking about internships. She knew she had to complete an internship to earn her undergraduate degree but really hadn't given it too much thought at that point. Her instructor advised that the students start looking into internships because the good ones, i.e. the _paid _ones, went fast. The instructor passed around information about available internships, and she tucked it in her binder to read later.

_xxxxx_

"Oh…oh…Noah…don't stop…please…" she whispered to him. He pushed a few more times, grunted, and rolled off her. She heard the snap of the latex as he pulled the condom off and tossed it aside.

Her breathing was heavy, even though he left her unfulfilled…again. She felt the shift of the bed as he got up and made his way to the bathroom. He returned to the bedroom and began pulling on his clothes. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.

"You're leaving?" she asked. "Again?"

"Yeah, babe, I've got an early class and I just need the sleep…you're all elbows and knees…it's hard to sleep with you," he answered gruffly. "I'll catch up with ya in a few days…I always do."

Her shoulders slumped. Why did she always put up with his bullshit?

"M'kay…" she mumbled. He leaned over her and kissed her on the top of her head, then strode through her apartment.

She heard the door slam, so she got up to lock it behind him.

_xxxxx_

"I need to choose an internship," she said to her best friend, Santana, over coffee at the student union.

"That should be easy…there are tons of historic places here," Santana said, nibbling on a scone. "I already have mine lined up."

"You do? Where?"

Santana smiled. "New York City, baby! They needed a Spanish interpreter at this theater, so, it should be interesting. The stipend is awesome, too." Santana was majoring in performing arts, minoring in Spanish studies.

"Wait…you're getting paid?"

Santana nodded happily. "Yep! They're putting me up in a condo _and _paying me for three months!"

Santana laughed at her friend's reaction of wide open eyes and jaw dropped. "You need to get yours lined up, Quinn, time's a'runnin' out!"

Quinn took Santana's words to heart and began researching the ones on the list she had been given that sounded promising.

It took her a week to go through them all and they had all been filled. She was in her Preservation Law class pondering this and listening to her classmates talk about their glorious internships…at Mount Vernon, the Smithsonian, Williamsburg…and she sighed. Her mind lately had been clouded by Noah and his antics.

Class ended, and she followed the other students into the hallway. She passed an announcement board and a posting jumped out at her.

_INTERNSHIP~ROOM AND BOARD INCLUDED  
ABRAMS ESTATE  
BATTENFIELD, MAINE  
HISTORIC PRESERVATION MAJORS ONLY  
APPLY AT: 207-392-6678_

She stopped and plucked the phone number from it. No other numbers had been pulled. The announcement was handwritten, in calligraphy it appeared, on parchment paper. It definitely caught her attention. She tried to recall studying an Abrams Estate in Maine but it didn't ring any bells.

_Not paid, Quinn, remember that_, she thought to herself, frowning.

She got to her apartment and opened her laptop to research this Abrams Estate before calling the number provided. She searched Google and was thankful there was a Wikipedia entry for the place, even a picture.

The place basically looked like a massive gray stone castle. The lines of the building were unique. The sizes and placement of the windows were odd. It was built high up on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic, right on the coastline. The nearest town was a place called Battenfield, a small town that had been around forever, it seemed.

Its history was it had been commissioned to be built in the mid 1850s by a man named Arthur Abrams. He had been unsatisfied with the original layout and ordered more wings to be built. He was a lifelong bachelor and eventually his large estate became a home for other unmarried folk in the area. After he died, the town took it over and it then became the poorhouse, then it sat empty and was in disrepair by the time of the Great Depression. It was recognized as a historic place by Maine in the 1970s and bought by the state and it had been going through restoration slowly since then. She wondered what the internship would entail, so she took a deep breath and dialed the number.

_xxxxx_

"Arthur Abrams Estate," a female voice answered on the first ring.

"Hello...I'm calling to inquire about the summer internship," Quinn said.

"Oh!" the woman said happily. "Are you a student at Mary Washington then?"

"I am. If I may have an address where to send my app-"

The lady interrupted her.

"We can conduct a mini interview over the telephone if you have the time..."

This took Quinn by surprise but she went with it. "Sure..."

Quinn gave the woman her personal information (name: Quinn Miller; date of birth: September 1, 1992; address; major: historic preservation; what year of school she was in).

The woman then introduced herself as Emma Pillsbury, a direct descendant of one of the previous residents of the estate (when it had been an old folks' home, she said). She told Quinn that the state of Maine's objective with restoration of the property was to eventually open it to the public. The restoration was nearly complete, what needed to be done now was sort through and catalog items left at the estate. Some of the items were, of course, possessions of Arthur Abrams; however, when residents there died, if no family took possession of the decedent's items they were stored away in the basement. Ms. Pillsbury said there was a significant amount of things to go through because most of the people who had resided there, then died, were without family.

Quinn found that sad in a way but also intriguing.

"Of course, now, with all the genealogy rage, people are coming out of the woodwork looking for any information on long-lost relatives who might've lived here so this would give them something, as well," Ms. Pillsbury told her.

"So, my duties would entail...?" Quinn asked.

"Sorting through what was left behind, building a database in Microsoft Access, cataloging it, and then we'll decide what should be put on display. Since this was considered an old folk's home and the poor house, I sincerely doubt there is anything of value to be found. You of course will stay on the premises and all your meals will be provided by the chef. You are required to work 40 hours per week through June, July, and August. However, the estate cannot afford to pay you a stipend unfortunately. Of course, you may work more than those 40 hours per week if you so desire. You can spend your downtime enjoying the scenery and the little town of Battenfield; it's very historic."

Quinn was actually very interested. "Do you live on-site?"

Ms. Pillsbury chuckled. "Oh no...I have a tidy little home in Battenfield. I'm here daily, though."

"So...I'd be there alone at night, then?" Quinn asked. This caused her a bit of anxiety.

"Yes, but there is an excellent security system in place to deter vandals. Let me give you our address so you may send your resume and references..."

Quinn wrote down the information and said she'd have her application in the mail within the next day. Ms, Pillsbury told her that as soon as she received it she'd be in contact with Quinn.

Quinn hung up the phone, strangely excited about this prospect.

_xxxxx_

"Hey baby...I brought some pizza...your fave...pepperoni and extra onions," Noah said at her door.

She smiled a bit. Those were his favorite toppings; she preferred sausage and mushrooms. She took the pizza from him, and he followed her in, pulling a beer from his six-pack and putting the rest in the refrigerator. He plopped down on her couch and flipped on the TV to ESPN. She sat down with him, plucking pepperoni and onions from her slice of pizza.

"How're your classes going?" she asked him.

"Eh...so-so...I might have to take that English class over," he mumbled. She sighed. He was majoring in broadcasting, sports minor, and still couldn't manage to pass his pre-req English class.

"I have a great internship opportunity," she said brightly, changing the conversation slightly.

"Oh really? Cool..." he said, going back to the TV.

"It's in Maine, though, and for the whole summer," she told him. He grunted in reply and didn't ask her anything further about it.

They sat there in relative silence and ate the pizza while he knocked back a couple more beers and flipped channels. Once he had finished eating, he belched and slung an arm around her shoulders. She knew the routine...pizza, beer, TV, sex. Him putting his arm around her signaled the beginning of foreplay. _It was now or never_, she thought.

"Um, Noah, tonight's just not a good night...I started..." she said quietly. She never had periods anymore; she was on the pill but he didn't know that. He removed his arm and sat next to her stiffly. After a few minutes, he made a production of stretching, then stood up.

"Well, babe, I'm doin' that thing tomorrow morning on the radio so, ya know, I better head out," he said. One of his classes was working on-site at a local radio station, mainly as a go-fer type boy, not actually broadcasting _on _the radio. She stood up with him and followed him to her door.

"Have a good day, then," she said smiling.

He suddenly remembered the three beers left in her fridge and ran to grab them, then took off after a quick kiss on her cheek. She was proud of herself for finally sending him on his way and not giving in to anymore meaningless sex.

The next morning, she mailed her resume and other vital information to the Arthur Abrams Estate in Maine.

_xxxxx_

One week later, Quinn received her acceptance letter from the Abrams Estate and began making arrangements to travel there. She subletted her apartment, let her mother know where she'd be for the summer, and met with Santana for drinks a couple nights before they both left town for their respective internships.

"So, are you and Noah done?" Santana asked her.

"Yeah, I think so...it kinda ran its course, I guess," Quinn replied, stirring her cosmopolitan.

"He was an ass, Quinn, and certainly didn't deserve you," Santana said. "You deserve someone who sees the real you."

Quinn smiled and sipped on her drink, looking around the noisy club. "We'll see...I doubt there's any free fellows up in Maine," she laughed.

"You never know where you'll find love."

"I'm pretty sure it won't be in the basement of this ancient castle-like home I'm going to!"

They both laughed about that.

"Just keep in touch, will ya?" Santana asked. "And take lots of pictures."

"Too bad you can't come visit me," Quinn said. "This lady I spoke to who will be there during the day sounds nice but super uptight and antsy."

"I'd love nothing more to come visit you in that musty, dusty old home...probably full of ghosts, ya know...but I'll be busy living it up in NYC, baby!" Santana then raised her glass and let out a yell. "C'mon! Let's dance!"

Quinn followed Santana to the dance floor, laughing, and danced the night away, her thoughts not on her internship at all.

**A/N:**** Thanks for all the reviews on chapter 1! I know there wasn't a lot to go on...this story takes a couple chapters to get into where it's headed. That's why I decided to put chapter 2 up so quickly. :) Right now, I'm starting chapter 13 so we've got a'ways to go! Thanks again for reading and reviewing...I appreciate it!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Specter~Chapter 3**_

"C'mon, man, just do it already!" Finn said, urging Sam on.

Sam wasn't too sure about this. Since dying in 1852 and finding himself in heaven alongside Finn, he had mostly enjoyed sitting atop a puffy cloud, watching the Earthly souls go about their business. That's what he had to look forward to for eternity so he might as well enjoy it. Upon arrival in heaven, and seeing Finn and even Lucinda's father, he learned he was a spiritual being. He appeared the age he did when he died, as did Finn and Mr. Fabbrae, but all of the effects of being submerged in the ocean for days after his death were gone. He thanked God that he didn't have to spend eternity being bloated and gray.

The spirits were given two options: hang around in the clouds day in and day out or spend their time on Earth, only _harmlessly _haunting folks. Finn and Sam decided that that was the way to go, bid farewell to Mr. Fabbrae and other spirits they knew, and headed back down to Earth. They soon learned how to move effortlessly from place to place (just think it and you'll go). They heard a rumor from other spirits that you had one opportunity to reveal yourself to a living soul if you could figure out how, but neither one of them had ever seen that done before or even heard of it being done. At first, they haunted Battenfield for a few years but that soon grew tiresome. It saddened Sam to watch over Lucinda as she grieved for him and the others. Soon, Finn and Sam transported themselves to the battlefields of the Civil War where they had a largely fun time haunting the Confederate soldiers. They traveled around the United States, watching it grow, and then around the world, witnessing major events in history. They returned to Battenfield on September 1, 1916, because Sam had a feeling about Lucinda. He watched over her as she took her last breaths. He watched her burial in the old cemetery and knew she'd be arriving in heaven soon. He wondered if she'd make the choice to stay or come back as a spirit to Earth. He was still waiting to see her in spiritual form so he guessed she stayed upstairs. Through the years, Sam and Finn continued to make the rounds, enjoying meeting other spirits and always enjoying the haunting.

"I dunno, Finn...it would prob'ly scare that old man to death!" Sam answered, making them both laugh at that prospect.

"Are you 'fraid he'd come back to get you?" Finn asked.

"Then you do it!"

They were standing behind Prince Philip as he sat at the breakfast table enjoying his tea and toast after all the Queen's Jubilee festivities. Finn reached through him and moved his tea saucer across the table. They watched as Prince Philip took this in. Sam then reached through him and moved the saucer back to its rightful place.

Sam and Finn were snickering about the Prince's terrified expression until the Queen walked in and asked him what was wrong. He tried to explain to her about the tea cup and saucer, but she wasn't having any of that and called for the guards and had the Prince ushered to the hospital.

Sam and Finn transported themselves to Paris.

"Remember Amelia? She wasn't scared of anything, bless her," Finn said, recalling their intervention with one Amelia Earhart.

"She was a fun one," Sam agreed.

They both agreed that while haunting was a fun sport, it was only fun when the hauntee was not so scared, not believing they were actually being haunted. Finn and Sam considered those people a challenge. For the most part, the regular people they haunted had no idea they were being haunted and went about their daily activities never knowing a chuckling Finn and Sam were following them.

They had no concept of time and needed no sleep. Sometimes, if haunting was getting boring, Sam would transport himself to the Battenfield library (his favorite library anywhere) and read over someone's shoulder. He didn't care what it was, just something to pass the infinite time.

One of their favorite haunts in Battenfield, though, was the Abrams Estate and the lady who was the main caretaker. She refused to believe there were ghosts or spirits haunting those halls, even though Finn and Sam tried every trick they had to try to scare her just a bit. They'd close opened doors, open closed doors, blow papers from the table in front of her, blow out a candle, walk loudly enough for her to hear their footsteps, move inanimate objects (one of their favorite things to do). However, they always respected her privacy and never haunted her in the bathroom or at her own home. Sometimes, she'd speak out loud to them, telling them that they weren't scaring her. She didn't know who they were, per se, but she was not frightened of them in the least little bit.

After setting her cup of coffee down to adjust some curtains that had been open, now were closed, she turned to find her coffee cup gone.

"Really? Are you thirsty? I'm not sure you'd like my cream with a splash of latte. Now, where'd you put it?" she asked into thin air. She wandered from the sitting room into the expansive grand foyer and sighed. She just wanted her latte, was that too much to ask? She heard a thump in the dining room and followed it. There, she found her cup of latte, still steaming.

"Thank you very much," she said, smiling. She just hoped the new girl and the ghosts would get along.

_xxxxx_

_September 1, 1916_

_So, this is what heaven looks like_, she thought, a bit sadly, upon reaching the Pearly Gates. St. Peter was waiting there to usher her in. He directed her to a desk holding a giant book, the largest book she had ever seen. She signed in: _Lucinda Q Fabbrae, September 1, 1916_. She studied the _Q_. She had always wondered what it stood for; no one had told her. There wasn't much else to do except wander around. She was told of the two options, staying or going back to Earth as a spirit. She chose to stay. If she went back to Earth, she would just be reminded of all she never had. She checked the directory and found her parents, residing on Cloud #494E. She floated around, until she found them hovering over Mexico. Her father looked the same as he did the night he died in the shipwreck; her mother looked the same as when Lucinda last saw her alive.

"Lucinda! You've made it!" her mother said happily, floating over to hug her.

"Hello ma, pa...yes, I've made it," Lucinda said, somewhat resignedly.

"Look at this view we have! It took us awhile to move up such a great cloud, but we did it!" her father said, hugging her also.

Lucinda looked down and had to agree that it was a beautiful sight.

They caught up, asking her what she had done with her life. She finally asked them what the _Q_ stood for, her middle name, and they told her that her middle name was Quynne, a name handed down on her mother's side of the family.

_Lucinda Quynne Fabbrae…Lucinda Quynne Evans_…she thought. She loved the sound of _Quynne_, wishing she had asked about when she was alive.

The topic of conversation finally came around to the night of the shipwreck.

"It was awful; the fog so thick no one could see anything...then the rocks and such a horrible sound! The _Lizzy Dean _began taking on water quickly and we went under," her father described. "The water was icy cold; it took me quickly. It took all of us."

"Did Samuel Evans pester you on that trip?" she asked her father, smiling.

"He did! He was a rascal that one! He promised me he'd take very good care of you, Lucinda, and I believe he would have," her father replied.

"Did you ever see Samuel here?" she asked them.

"Ayuh! He and the Hudson boy returned to Earth," her father told her. Her heart felt heavy. She had hoped to see him here at least, even if she was 80 in her human years and him still 17. Now, there was no chance of that. Her eternity would consist of sitting on the fluffy cloud with her parents, looking down at Mexico.

What happened in the next few days Lucinda considered a miracle. Word spread that God was trying out something new, a plan He called _Rebirth_. Under this plan, a spirit could choose to be reborn. The soul would fill out a questionnaire and as soon as a human match was being born they would be transported into that body. The drawback would be losing all memory of your previous life. Of course, all the kinks and quirks hadn't been worked out, but God and his disciples didn't anticipate too many issues. Lucinda picked up a questionnaire and read through it. Her first week in heaven had been dreadfully boring; at least on Earth, she had kept herself busy and social. But, losing all her memory of her previous life...she wasn't so sure she could handle that. Her memory of Sam would vanish. _Maybe it's time I let him go_, she thought. She filled out the data on the info form, turned it in, and waited. And waited. And waited.

Finally, her name was called. She hugged her family goodbye and reported to the transportal vestibule. She had to sign a final release before climbing in. The last thing she heard before being transported back to Earth was the saint who was blessed with the transporting task. He said, "You're going to Lima, Ohio!"

Just as the door on the transportal vestibule shut quietly, Lucinda's last thought as her own was, "Like the bean?"

_xxxxx_

The room was bright and loud and cold. She was screaming. Then, she was wet and cold and annoyed. People were handling her roughly and stinging her with sharp instruments. Drops were put into her eyes, making her scream even louder. Finally, someone wrapped her in a blanket and handed her to another person. That person smiled down at her, so she stopped screaming. Her mind was full of thoughts, racing and scattered images; she couldn't quite grasp them as they disappeared. She heard the name _Sam_ though she had no idea what a Sam was…fluffy clouds…the feeling of peace dissipating. The smiling woman kissed her forehead and handed her to someone else who put her in a crib. The crib was rolled from the room to another room, full of other screaming people. On the outside of the crib, a placard was attached: _Baby Girl Miller, September 1, 1992_.

**A/N: I hope this explains a little more of what's going to happen! I'm so excited about it...stick with me...it makes more sense as we go! If things still aren't making sense, let me know, and I'll get chapter 4 posted asap! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I love to hear from y'all! :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Specter~Chapter 4**_

Quinn flew into the Portland Municipal Airport the day after Memorial Day. The estate had sent her a round-trip ticket for her flight. At the airport, she'd meet Ms. Pillsbury who would drive them to the estate in Battenfield. Noah had made an attempt to see her the night before she left for her flight. At her door, she told him that she thought it was best if they were just friends and nothing else. She didn't want him to feel tied down over the summer (she already knew that _that_ wouldn't happen; the guy was like a dog in heat _always_), but she said it anyway to not bruise his ego. He shrugged, said _whatever_, and was gone. She closed her door and finished packing, trying not to think of him.

It was hard for her to sleep the night before she left. Her dreams were disjointed and odd. Occasionally that happened when she was facing a stressful situation. She had, of course, been doing research on the estate and had a good idea of what it looked like so it showed up in her dreams that night. She was anxious to see the inside and learn more about it and the people who had lived there. She wanted to learn more about Arthur Abrams...what was his story? The thought of being there by herself at night was playing at her mind, but she kept telling herself that Ms. Pillsbury assured her of the state-of-the-art security system. Still, the horror movie thoughts would not leave her alone. She would not have a car to drive; the town was so small and so close she could ride a bicycle if she chose to or walk.

She watched the scenery pass under her as she flew northward, less skyscrapers and more trees. The plane was a small jet, only a handful of passengers, so she thought about what she might learn during this internship. She definitely wanted lots of pictures of the architecture; the structure intrigued her and she couldn't wait to see it up close. She would have the chance to work on her researching skills. She planned to treat the belongings of the people who had lived and died there with the utmost respect and hopefully provide some answers to family members. She would be handling items that had meant the world to those people at one time. To say this was an opportunity of a lifetime was an understatement, she thought, especially at this point in her life.

The plane making its descent jarred her out of her thoughts. She watched as they bumped along the runway and slowed to a crawl, then a stop. She yawned to pop her ears, then unbuckled herself, ready to start her adventure.

The airport was small; they disembarked from the plane right on the tarmac and walked a few feet to the terminal. Quinn slipped her carry-on bag over her arm with her purse and followed the others inside, looking for Ms. Pillsbury.

As it turned out, Ms. Pillsbury was totally easy to find. She was holding a sign that said _Quinn M _and was slightly bouncing up and down, a huge grin plastered on her face. She had hair the color of copper, straight and falling to her shoulders, a petite frame, and giant hazel eyes. She was dressed in a smart mint green suit and white blouse, the skirt falling to just below her knees.

"Ms. Pillsbury?" Quinn asked, approaching her and reaching out to shake her hand.

"That's me! Welcome!"

"Hi," Quinn said, laughing a bit at how animated this tiny woman was. "Thanks for meeting me here."

"My absolute pleasure. First of all, call me Emma. _Ms. Pillsbury _is way too formal," Emma said. They began walking through the terminal. "Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Um, I think I'll stop in the restroom. You said it's about an hour's drive, right?" Quinn asked. Emma nodded.

"I'll grab us a couple bottles of water for the ride to the estate," Emma said, scurrying off to a vendor.

Quinn found the ladies room and finally let go of the breath she had been holding. She liked this Emma lady right off the bat.

She retrieved her two bags from the luggage carousel and followed Emma to the parking lot. She nearly dropped all her luggage when she saw the car Emma walked up to.

"Is that…wow! Is that what I think it is?" Quinn asked, astonished.

Emma beamed with pride. "It is…a '37 Rolls Royce Phantom, donated to the estate by my great-uncle who resided there at one time." She opened the two suicide doors for Quinn to place her luggage in the back. "He stipulated in his will that he wanted the Abrams Estate to have a vehicle worthy enough to be parked there."

The car was a deep navy blue with white accents and chrome. Quinn went to the passenger side and climbed in. The leather seats were fawn colored and supple, possibly the most luxurious thing she had ever sat upon. She stared at all of the dials and meters on the dash as Emma got behind the wheel, pulling white leather driving gloves on.

"Original black walnut…beautiful, isn't it?" Emma said, noticing Quinn staring at the polished dashboard.

"Stunning…" Quinn replied. "So your great-uncle…Pillsbury…was he…?"

Emma finished her thought. "Yep, he was of the Pillsbury dough fame. His father, my great-great-grandfather, actually founded the company."

Emma was clearly proud of her heritage.

"That's awesome! It must be neat for you to be able to work where your great-uncle once lived," Quinn said to her.

Emma nodded and smiled. "It's my dream job."

The car purred to life. They began moving and Quinn couldn't even hear the engine of the classy vehicle. Soon, the scenery of the drive to Battenfield pulled Quinn's attention from the rich interior of the Phantom. She had never seen trees so tall, not even in Virginia. They were already in full bloom and thick with green leaves.

"It's such a scenic drive, this way to Battenfield," Emma said, again noticing what Quinn was staring at. "Instead of the drab highway, I thought you'd enjoy this route."

"I do, thank you Emma," Quinn replied, smiling.

Strangely, she felt familiar in Maine, at home.

_xxxxx_

They drove along with the windows of the car down for awhile. Quinn found the temperature to be perfect and let her hand fall from the window and be carried on the breeze.

"I suppose you'd like to know more about the estate...am I right?" Emma asked her, breaking the silence.

Quinn turned to her. "Very much so."

Emma rolled up the windows and turned on some cool air in the car.

"This is what we know...a man named Arthur Abrams had the home built in approximately 1860. He had the stones brought in from the rock outcroppings at the coastline. He was a lifelong resident of Battenfield and the rumor was his consort was a woman named Rachel Berry. He had the home built for her on the bluff overlooking the ocean. She lost her first love in a tragic shipwreck in 1852; the ship wrecked into the very rocks used to build this home. Abrams himself was not a sailor; he became a ship building magnate of the time and that's where he made his money."

"So, his estate, he had Rachel live there with him but they never married?" Quinn asked.

"This is correct. Of course, Rachel wasn't the only person living there. He wouldn't turn away anyone who needed a home," Emma told her. "That's how it got to be known as an 'old folk's home'. As more people needed someplace to live, he just kept adding on to the structure."

"Exactly how large is this home?"

"The closest measurement has been fifteen thousand square feet, not counting the basement," Emma said, laughing as Quinn's eyes got huge. "The basement itself is another five thousand square feet. The upper two floors are renovated but closed off for now. The ground floor will eventually be open for tours. The second floor is where you'll be staying, in Mr. Abrams' suite of rooms."

"How many rooms are there?"

"The ground floor and second floor are quite spacious. The third and fourth floors are mainly dormitory style, many small rooms to accommodate the people who lived there. Of course, after Mr. Abrams' passed and the town took over the estate, it was used as a poor folk's home, then it fell into disrepair after the Great Depression," Emma said. "The basement is where belongings were stored once someone died."

Quinn sat there considering this. _Five thousand square feet _of dead people's stuff. She definitely had her work cut out for her.

"Well, I've always loved a good challenge!" she said to Emma.

Emma considered telling her about the strange occurrences at the home but decided not to. If she was lucky, the spirits would leave Quinn alone.

_xxxxx_

They passed a worn sign stating _Welcome to Battenfield! _and shortly thereafter Emma slowed the car to make a right-hand turn into a drive that Quinn had not even noticed. Suddenly, they were in the shadows of a thick forest, tall oak trees and centuries-old pine trees and sycamores, on a curving lane, the branches creating a leafy canopy over the drive. Interspersed alongside the road were old-fashioned light posts, not yet turned on since it was still daylight out.

"The estate is about a mile off the main road," Emma said as she drove slowly down the lane. "Mr. Abrams did enjoy his privacy from the rest of the world."

_No doubt_, Quinn thought, watching the forest enclose them as they drove farther away from the main road. Emma went on to tell her that a bike ride from the estate to town only took approximately 15 minutes.

"As much as it would be a nice place to take a walk," Emma began, "with the lights, there are still a lot of native wild animals out and about in these woods...deer, raccoon, an occasional coyote..."

"I think I'll stay close to the estate at night," Quinn chuckled.

Within a few minutes, Emma pulled the car around a curve, crossed an ages old stone bridge, and there was the giant stone home, looming before them. It was hard for Quinn not to stare at the structure with her mouth agape. She had never dreamed it'd be so _large _when seeing it in person. Outwardly, because of all the stonework she thought, it struck her as a cold building. There were odd turrets jutting from the top and windows of varying height and location all around the building. When she finally could tear her eyes away from it, she was astounded by the grounds surrounding it. The lawns were luscious, tasteful beautiful flower gardens everywhere she looked. She picked up the scent of honeysuckle, her favorite.

When Emma parked the car under a stone-covered drive at the side of the house, Quinn stepped out and walked to the back of the car, looking out over the bluff the house sat upon, and out to the swift-moving deep blue water. Emma joined her at the rear of the car.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked Quinn quietly.

"It is..." Quinn said, her voice dreamy. She looked around the grounds again, then back up at the estate, and just couldn't shake the feeling that she had been there before.

_xxxxx_

"I see you made it! Welcome to the Abrams Estate!" a male voice boomed behind her cheerfully. Quinn turned on her heel, more than a bit shocked, to be eye to eye with a thin man with short curly light brown hair and a big smile. He stuck his hand out excitedly, and she shook it, him pumping their handshake up and down.

"Quinn Miller, this is Will Schuester, the estate's most wonderful chef and gardener," Emma introduced them. "Will, Quinn Miller."

Quinn thought she caught them sharing a quick glance but smiled at Will. "Hello there, Mr.-"

"Oh, no no no! Call me Will!" he said happily. He finally freed her hand and pulled her bags from the back seat of the car. "I hope you had a nice trip from Virginia. The drive here from Portland is wonderful, in my opinion. I hope Emma took you the back way." He chuckled and led them into the side door of the estate from where he had come. "You must let me know what you like to eat and don't like to eat, any allergies, what time you eat, those kind of things...I'm on the premises from sun up to sun down...I'm totally at your service in the kitchen!"

_That man is full of boundless energy_, Quinn thought.

"Thank you, um, Will...I appreciate it. The gardens are beautiful," she said, still taking them in. He nodded at her in appreciation.

"We can discuss meals later, Will. I'd like to show Quinn around a bit and let her get settled in the suite," Emma said, placing her hand lightly on Will's upper arm.

"Of course...silly me! I do hope you enjoy your stay, Miss Miller," Will said.

"Please, call me Quinn," she replied.

"Sure, Quinn, well, come on in!" Will said, holding open a heavy oaken door.

They entered a fairly large side foyer that was off the huge kitchen. The kitchen retained its original appearance but had obviously been refitted with top-of-the-line equipment. Most impressive was the humongous fireplace stretching nearly the entire width of the kitchen at the back wall.

"That is one impressive fireplace!" Quinn exclaimed. "Is it working?"

"Ayuh...I usually only fire it up in the wintertime, though, too hot right now," Will told her.

From the kitchen, they passed a pantry, roughly the size of her apartment, then through a butler's pantry, and then were in the formal dining room.

"You can take your meals in here or, if you'd rather, there is a more cozy breakfast nook that includes a balcony from where you can overlook the waters," Emma said, pointing out a curving staircase at one end of the massive dining room. "Will and I usually just eat in the kitchen." Quinn had not even noticed the stone stairwell there as it all blended in perfectly. Above them, there were navy blue velvet drapes pulled closed to what must be the breakfast nook. From the dining room, they stopped in the grand foyer.

Will and Emma watched in silence as Quinn turned around slowly, taking in the grandeur, her mouth again fallen open. The front doors were again oaken and stretched to the top of the foyer. There was leaded glass with hints of blue and green inlaid in both doors and an old-fashioned door ringer running up alongside them. The tile of the floor in the entrance-way was different hues of blue, green, shiny silver, some white, picking up the light coming in through the front doors, laid out in an indistinct pattern. The oak doors to the dining room were French doors and there was a matching set on the other side of the foyer. The staircase was like nothing she had ever seen, at least up close and personal. It was a double staircase, winding and curving upward to the next floor, the steps laid with tile all the way up, a black carpet running down the center on each side. A large foyer table was placed in between the two staircases, a table as large as her parent's dinner table. This table held a massive blue, green, and white vase, full of fresh-cut flowers.

"Mr. Abrams had all the tile and window glass imported. He always had a vase of fresh flowers on the table; he would choose the flowers himself every morning and arrange them," Emma said. "Now, Will does that duty."

"This is utterly gorgeous," Quinn said, almost reverently.

"Thank you. Shall we?" Emma said, directing her to the next set of French doors. "This was the front salon, where Mr. Abrams would entertain guests of the estate."

She pulled open the doors to reveal a large room, much like a parlor, full of the fanciest period furniture. The walls had built-in shelves to house a myriad of unique trinkets.

"Some of this is original to the estate," Emma said, motioning toward the furniture. "Other pieces we had to add from his description of the salon. Everything on the shelves, however, was his." Emma was very proud of this, Quinn could tell.

"Quinn, are you at all hungry? I could prepare you a late lunch if you'd like," Will asked her.

"Thank you, that'd be wonderful. Nothing fancy, please. I'm not picky," she replied, smiling.

"Very well. Emma will show you the bell ringer in your suite, just ring to let me know when you are on your way down so I can prepare your setting," he said, leaving the salon.

"He's an excellent chef; we're lucky to have him here," Emma told Quinn as they walked back to the foyer. "Now to the back salon…"

They entered another pair of French doors located in the shadows of the staircase and they were in an L-shaped room. This room was definitely more casual than the front salon. There was another large stone fireplace, a billiards table, and other scattered tables about. One section of the room was obviously a library area, the walls there lined with books. Where the room hooked, it ran the entire back of the house and that wall was basically all windows, giving Quinn a wondrous view of the back of the estate. There was some yard and gardens, then the forest. A set of leaded glass doors opened onto a covered patio, covered in the same tiles as the grand foyer.

"All of the wood in the house is oak, felled by trees on the grounds," Emma told her. "This area was for the residents here, a common area if you will."

"This is lovely. He must've been a very generous man," Quinn said. "And I take it he liked blues and greens!"

"He did! He was quoted once as saying it was his way of bringing the waters indoors. He was very well-liked, for sure," Emma answered. "Let me show you to your suite and you may have your lunch. After lunch, I'll introduce you to the basement and all those treasures!"

"Great! I'm ready to dig in," Quinn said, following her out of the back salon behind the staircases.

"A little surprise back here…" Emma said, pressing a button on the wall. A wooden like door slid open, revealing an elevator.

"Wow…is this original?" Quinn asked, laughing.

"Oh no, the estate had it added to make the home more handicapped accessible," Emma said, making room for Quinn and then pushed a button inside.

The elevator carried them to the second floor and opened just outside the Abrams suite where Will had left Quinn's luggage. The suite of rooms was located directly above the dining room and kitchen. And when Emma said a suite of rooms, she wasn't joking.

They entered through double oak doors and were in a sitting room. Moving toward the bedroom, they passed through a passageway with the bathroom on one side and a walk-in wardrobe on the other side and then were in the expansive bedroom. Quinn had never seen a bed as large as the one before her. The room was decorated in blues and whites and the bedroom was at the front of the house with a curving staircase, much like the one in the dining room, leading up to one of the turrets, that opened out to a small balcony overlooking the Atlantic. There was a dresser, two night stands, two arm chairs, a desk, and, of course, a flat-screen TV.

"He did not spare on his luxury," Emma said. "The bed was custom made for him. Of course, the mattress and bedding are all new, as is the TV. Hopefully, you can find rest and relaxation here when we're not working."

"I'm just speechless, Emma. This is such a wonderful opportunity, and I thank you for choosing me," Quinn said.

"I'm sure there is a lot here for you to learn. You just seemed like the perfect fit," Emma said, giggling a little.

"Thank you again."

"Oh…here is the bell ringer," Emma said, walking up next to the bed and tugging on a dark blue velvet rope. Faintly, Quinn heard a bell ring downstairs. "Well, I'll let you be to unpack. I'll be in the kitchen having a bite to eat. After lunch, we can trek down to the basement!"

Quinn thought Emma sounded almost _too _excited about the basement but smiled. This was what she was there for.

Downstairs, Emma met Will in the kitchen.

"I think she likes it," she said to him.

"Our _friends _didn't make any appearances?" he asked her, referring to the spirits they were pretty sure haunted the estate.

"Not yet. I wouldn't be surprised if in the next day or so they realize she's here," Emma said, taking her salad and sandwich to the table in the kitchen.

Listening to their conversation, not yet pulling any pranks on them, Finn rolled his eyes and made a face. He had been bored that day and couldn't find Sam so he decided to have some fun at Artie's old place. He was waiting for an opportunity to move something on its own when he overheard Will and Emma talking about someone new.

"I'm all settled in!" he heard a cheerful voice say from behind him. He turned to check out this new person and about made a ghostly noise from the shock of seeing such a familiar face. She passed right through him without realizing it and sat down with Will and Emma.

_xxxxx_

On the other side of the world, wandering about Honolulu and enjoying the view of the scantily clad ladies, Sam was shaken out of his haze when Finn appeared.

"Wow…where are all their clothes?" Finn asked him, also gawking at the girls.

"I dunno…things sure have changed," Sam replied.

"You are the hardest spook to find, Sam! Oh! You'll never ever in a quadrillion light years guess who I just saw!" Finn said, grabbing Sam's shoulders.

Sam waited, then rolled his eyes. "Okay, who?"

Finn paused a moment, a dramatic pause he thought.

"Lucinda! On Earth! She's a human!"

**A/N: First of all, I'm basing the estate on the Gillette Castle...go Google it to get a better idea of what I'm describing. Secondly, I known nothing of the Pillsbury dough history. I just thought why not have Emma be connected to that? I love fiction! :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Specter~Chapter 5**_

Sam stared at Finn's transparent form for a couple moments, then snorted.

"You joke with me! Good one, Finn," Sam said, clapping Finn on the shoulder.

"No! No joke! I was floating around Battenfield, wreaking my usual havoc, when I floated by the Abrams estate to haunt Will and Emma and there she was!"

Sam considered this. There was no way. He watched her die, watched her be buried. He had never seen her in spirit form on Earth so he assumed she stayed in heaven. There was just no way.

"Sam, this girl looks _just like_ Lucinda…she _sounds_ just like Lucinda," Finn said, all joking aside. "You should go see for yourself."

Sam looked back at the bikini-clad sunbathers.

"Fine, only to put an end to something so ludicrous," he said finally.

_xxxxx_

The basement of the estate was a welcome, albeit spacious, surprise. She expected a dark, dank, low ceilinged area full of rotting boxes full of mostly junk but was happy to see that it was well lit and even somewhat organized. It seemed very little to no moisture had disturbed what was stored there and it even smiled nice, much like a library. They stood next to a couple wheeled carts and on the carts were white cotton gloves and face masks in case things got dusty.

"So," Emma said, clapping her hands a little. "I've really been wanting to dig into this project but the estate wanted me to have an assistant first, which is you. Hopefully we can make a dent in all this this summer. Lucky for us, when they installed the elevator they brought it down here as well." She pointed back over her shoulder. They had entered the basement from a door in the side foyer that Quinn had not even noticed upon arrival to the house. "We can load up boxes and take them to the second floor office to do our research."

One of the rooms attached to the Abrams suite was his huge office, which Quinn had checked out before lunch. It was situated over the back salon and also had a wall of windows and balcony overlooking the backyard and gardens. There were two huge desks there and it had obviously been upgraded to the present time with laptops on each desk.

_A perfect place to work_, Quinn thought.

In the basement, Emma walked to a far corner while pushing a cart. Quinn followed her with the other cart. "During renovations, they started here, to ensure there was no water damage and of course update the electricity and plumbing and all the connections needed for the internet. You might still see a rogue spider but I've been assured there are no other _rodents_ lurking down here." Emma laughed; Quinn cringed at the word _rodents_.

"Now, apparently when residents began dying if no family was available to take possession of their belongings, Mr. Abrams had them stored here, clearly marked with the person's name and year. He was a very forward-thinking man," Emma told her. "During renovations, though, the boxes got shifted around and moved out of order, I believe so I thought we could start with the boxes easiest to get to and then get to the ones that are farther back. We can load them on these carts to take to the elevator."

"Sounds like a great idea," Quinn agreed.

"Upstairs, in the office, maybe you could set up a database so that we could enter what we find...I'm guessing alphabetical to start off with, then later we could look into making a list using dates...that kind of thing," Emma suggested.

"Sure," Quinn said, a little excited to craft a database from scratch. "Should we go ahead and take some boxes upstairs then? I think, if at all possible, we bring up everything for one resident that we find, so nothing gets split up...maybe I can work on a couple people and you can do a couple people? I am so ready to start this project!"

"Great idea! I think some of these older boxes might just be all somebody had left when they died so we might be able to bring up 10 people at a time!"

They giggled at the thought of _bringing people up_. They loaded up some very old boxes of things, labeled with names in wobbly hand-writing.

"I think Mr. Abrams actually began this and someone else took over after he died. My worry is we might find someone else's possessions mixed in with the wrong box," Emma said. "I guess that's the mystery for us to solve!"

"I call Daphne!" Quinn said, laughing.

Emma laughed too. "All we need is Scooby Doo!"

_xxxxx_

Sam and Finn appeared on the lawn of the Abrams Estate, not seen by anyone but themselves.

"Will sure takes care of the property nicely, doesn't he?" Sam asked Finn. They had materialized on the front lawn, looking up at the mansion.

"He seems to do a fine job," Finn said, pulling him up the yard to the house. "C'mon...let's find her."

They floated up to the front porch, then through the heavy oak front doors into the grand foyer.

"He even chooses flowers like Artie used to," Sam said, glancing around. "Almost like he _knew_ Artie."

"Yep…c'mon, let's see if they are in here," Finn said, floating off toward the kitchen.

In the kitchen, they found Will cleaning up the lunch plates. He stood at the sink, hand-washing the chinaware, when he heard a noise behind him. He turned and the crystal salt shaker was moving across the table.

"Hello there," Will said cheerfully and turned back to the sink.

"Ugh, he's no fun anymore," Finn said to Sam. "Let's look around, she's here somewhere…"

Finn floated into the basement-way since the door was standing open. Sam followed him. In the basement, they looked over just in time to see the elevator door closing.

"Upstairs…"

On the first floor, they waited at the elevator and it kept creeping upward.

"Next floor…"

On the second floor, the two spirits waited impatiently. The elevator door opened and Emma pushed her cart off first in the direction of the office, walking past the two spirits. The next cart appeared and then the blonde girl pushing it.

Sam stared at the girl. He heard her laugh and speak to Emma. Finn was bugging him, asking if he thought she looked like his Lucinda. Sam just stared at her.

It was her…he was gazing at Lucinda Fabbrae once again.

_xxxxx_

He knew it was her…the sound of her laughter, the color of her hair, her build, her green-hazel eyes, even with the funny mark in the right iris that was uniquely her…this girl _was_ Lucinda. He _felt _it. Granted, her clothing was obviously modern, as was the style of her hair, but her essence was Lucinda. The way she moved, the way she carried herself…this living breathing girl was his one true love.

"How could this be possible?" he asked Finn, watching from the office doorway as Emma and Quinn pushed their carts into the office.

"I dunno! That's why I found you and brought you here! You just had to see her…I couldn't hardly believe it either," Finn said to him.

"Oh…is there a camera in here?" Quinn asked Emma suddenly. "We should take pictures of these items to attach to the database."

"I am so glad you thought of that…umm…" Emma looked around the room but came up empty-handed. "I'm not seeing one…"

"No problem…I brought my digital camera…it's just down the hall," Quinn said.

She exited through the office doorway, a sudden feeling of nausea and chill passing through her body as she passed directly through Sam. She stopped just on the other side of the door, mere inches away from his spirit.

"Did the air conditioning just kick on?" she asked Emma, a funny look on her face.

Emma looked up at her. "No, I don't think so. It's so quiet you never hear it."

Quinn looked confused. "Hmm…okay…I'll be right back."

Finn looked at Sam. "She felt you! She _felt _you!"

Sam, if not already a ghost, could not be any paler. He had felt her pass through him too.

Sam stood there, literally in a state of shock, watching the blonde girl finally turn and head off to the Abrams suite. In all his years as being a spirit, he had always been transparent, to other spirits and humans alike. He could pass through inanimate objects and structures and humans often passed through him without ever knowing he was there. He had felt the same way she did...nauseous and a bit chilled...there had been a _connection_. Still, even though this human girl resembled Lucinda in every way possible, he was still unconvinced that it was actually _her_. He disappeared from the house before Finn could even ask where he was going.

Quinn walked to the suite still in somewhat of a daze. She _had _felt something back there, a feeling she had never experienced before. It was a bit scary but then again not...more of the familiar feeling she had been picking up on since being in Battenfield, maybe more _intense_. She went to her luggage and pulled out her camera and returned to the office. When passing through the doorway again, she felt nothing.

**A/N: I wanted to let you all know that the inspiration for this story came from Readingtoomuch's internship. :) Also, Finn and Sam are the two who died in the shipwreck, not Artie. Artie was not on the boat; he became a rich ship builder and built that gigantic home. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing! :))))**


	6. Chapter 6

_**Specter~Chapter 6**_

Quinn's first afternoon of research went fairly smoothly aside from the weird cool feeling she experienced. Most of the day was spent setting up the database. They chose one small box of a person's belongings to use as the guinea pig for setting up what columns they wanted on the document to chart their information. With that first box of things, Quinn felt like she was being nosy, picking around at the leftovers of some stranger's life. She finally told herself she was doing a service for this person's ancestors and treated each item as if it were a treasure. They took pictures of each item documented and listed each thing under that person's name, giving a short description of what was stored in the box and the date they recorded the data. Quinn said that on the weekends she would research the people they had found through the week, trying to find some sort of ancestor. That way, she could utilize the genealogy records in Battenfield's library.

The first box of stuff was relatively easy to sort through: some old letters the person had saved, old receipts, a couple old small framed pictures, and an old bottle of perfume, half full. Emma and Quinn tweaked the spreadsheet in their database until they had it the way they liked it. By the time they finished setting up the database, going through the stuff in the box and documenting and photographing it, recording it, and figuring out how to link the pictures to the database, it was time for supper. Will had come upstairs to see what time they'd be coming down for the meal. They decided then was a good stopping point, so Quinn offered to take the cart back down to the basement along with the first box they went through.

In the basement, Quinn looked around and found a relatively clear space to start stacking boxes that had been cataloged. A small trunk sitting nearby caught her eye. She moved a bit closer and looked at the name in scrawly handwriting: _Lucinda Q Fabbrae_. It intrigued her and she made a mental note to get to it sooner rather than later.

Will served supper in the kitchen; he had made stuffed pork chops with a salad and fresh veggies from town and freshly baked bread. Emma and Will told Quinn about the security system and gave her a card with the codes listed on it and phone numbers for the local police and fire station, just in case.

"How do you feel about staying here by yourself?" Emma asked her.

"Um, I'm sure it'll be an adjustment but I feel safe in the suite," Quinn replied. Emma had shown her special locks on the oak door that were separate from the estate security. They could only be set from within the suite and unlocked from within the suite. "I'll definitely be in the house before sunset!" She really didn't want to run the prospect of meeting a wild raccoon face to face.

"If you have any uneasiness, I'll be happy to stay," Emma said. "There are other guestrooms on the second floor."

"I think I'll be fine. I'd like to take some pictures of the estate and just relax a little...it's been such a full exciting day," Quinn said, smiling. "And dinner is wonderful!"

Will smiled. "Thank you...usually I'm only cooking for me and Emma." Emma smiled a tiny smile at Will.

_There was that glance again...something is up between those two_, Quinn thought.

After supper, Quinn helped with cleanup…she felt odd just standing around. Then, they practiced setting the alarm system so after Will and Emma left Quinn would know how to arm and disarm it. They did tell her that if the alarm was tripped for any reason, it sent a call to the police station and a police officer would be out within minutes.

"With this alarm system, it's a fortress," Will told her.

Emma went outside to pull the Phantom into the garage. She returned to the kitchen and handed Quinn a business card.

"My cell phone number is on it…if you need to call me…_for any reason at all_," Emma said to her.

"Okay, thanks. I promise you I'll be fine," Quinn said, laughing a bit. Emma looked at her for a moment…was it concern in her eyes?...then smiled.

"Of course you will be," she said finally. "We'll be here at 8 a.m. sharp!"

"Great…have a lovely evening and I'll see you both in the morning," Quinn said, seeing them out. She watched them walk to their cars, then pull back down the driveway.

She armed the security system and planned to stay in the house for the rest of the night. The sun was beginning to set so she decided she'd take pictures outside another day but took her camera around the inside of the estate.

With Will and Emma gone, the house was exceedingly quiet. Almost too quiet. She wandered around the ground floor again, spending time in both salons and the grand foyer, this time noticing the gas-light chandelier hanging high above her head. In the dining room, she wandered up to the breakfast nook and took in the scene of the ocean. She took many pictures, some to send to her mother and Santana to better describe where she was staying.

She went back to the kitchen and pulled a couple bottles of water from the refrigerator and some crackers to take up to the suite as a snack. She checked the basement door; it was closed and locked.

She returned to the double staircase and walked upstairs to the suite. Once inside the suite, she shut and locked the thick door.

"Well, here I am!" she said to no one in particular.

_xxxxx_

"First things first…" Quinn mumbled to herself. "I'm definitely going to be talking to myself a lot here." She laughed out loud.

She walked through the suite to the bedroom. She took a moment to look out her windows at the ocean, now dark with the sun set, and then pulled the heavy navy blue drapes closed. She turned on the TV…thank god for background noise…then plugged in her cell phone and laptop to charge. Next, she began unpacking her stuff.

She put a few items of clothing in the chest of drawers in the bedroom and hung up a few dresses in the wardrobe.

She took her toiletries to the bathroom and was astounded by how luxurious it was. Earlier in the day, she had not taken the time to appreciate the bathroom, being overwhelmed by the entire estate in general. Just like the other rooms of the home she had seen, this one was large. The same blue, green, and white tiles covered the floor in there just as they did in the grand foyer (_he must've really liked blue and green_, she thought of Arthur Abrams). There was a porcelain claw-foot tub plus a very modern steam shower. The basin on the sink was a blue vessel with a waterfall faucet, the countertop marble. She arranged her few beauty items on the countertop and put her shampoo and conditioner in the shower. She looked in the mirror at herself and smiled.

Her blonde hair was a bit mussed from the busy-ness of the day, but her makeup still looked nice. She hoped she had made a good impression with Will and Emma. So far, she was very happy with the work she was doing at the estate, applying everything she had learned to do in school to an actual real-life situation. And she loved it.

She changed out of her slacks and top into a pair of shorts and a tank top and settled onto the huge bed with her laptop to contact her mother and Santana. She sat on the bed and had to take a few moments to enjoy it; she had never had the fortune of lying on something so incredibly comfortable.

"It's like a cloud!" she said out loud to the room.

She rolled around a bit, acting a little less than her age of 22, then sat up to take care of her emails. She wrote her mother a quick note, telling her that she was set up at the estate for the summer, and described it a bit and the work she was doing. She knew her mother really wasn't interested in Quinn's course of study but she would be interested in the real estate.

Next, she wrote to Santana. She wondered how her first day in the big city had gone. She described to Santana her day and the estate and Will and Emma and their obvious affair.

Quinn had no emails yet. She had kind of half expected one from Noah but there was nothing.

She watched a bit of mindless TV after putting her laptop aside and around 10 o'clock decided to call it a night. She set her alarm for 7 a.m. and turned off all the lights.

The suite was pitch-black; she couldn't believe how dark and how quiet it was. With the TV off, she could hear all the nighttime noises outside in the forest and of course the house sounds. Since it was a stone fortress basically it didn't do a lot of "settling" but there were still sounds, mostly she thought related to the appliances turning off and on.

She lay in the massive bed that felt like a cloud and willed herself to close her eyes, hoping for sleep to come quick. Finally, it did take over and she was snoozing peacefully, not knowing that Sam Evans had been watching her the entire night.

_xxxxx_

"It can't be her…there is just no way," Sam said to Finn. Finn had finally caught up with him hovering over Italy after he had disappeared from the Abrams estate.

"Well, it sure looks like her and sounds like her…Emma called her 'Quinn' though," Finn said.

"I know…it just doesn't make any sense…even her eye…her eye was the same!" Sam said, holding his head in his hands. "I need to see her again."

He began pacing and then stopped. "What if it _is _her? What am I gonna do?"

Finn shrugged. "Maybe ask Figgins?"

Figgins was the supervisor of spirits. He was usually found lurking around Pakistan. If a spirit had a question or concern, he or she was to report to Figgins.

Sam snapped his fingers. "Yeah, yeah, maybe he'll know what to do!" He thought for a moment though. "First, I'm going to see her again…" And he disappeared.

_xxxxx_

He materialized in the Abrams suite in the sitting room. Silently, he floated toward the bedroom, watching her as she went about unpacking and typing and giggling on the massive bed. He watched her try to fall asleep in the dark, finally her figure sleeping peacefully in the huge bed. He stood over her, looking down at her as she slept. Her blonde hair was fanned out over the pillow, the comforter only pulled up to her belly, one bare leg sticking out from under the blankets. Even as she slept, he felt a connection to her though he didn't know why or what.

He floated about the room, looking at her cell phone and laptop, then moved into the bathroom. He saw the few things scattered on the countertop of the sink. He picked up her brush that she had placed on the right side of the basin. He set it down to the left of the basin when his eye caught her panties lying on the floor. He disappeared from her suite and landed in the kitchen. He unlocked and opened the basement door and floated down there. Once in the basement, he noted the small trunk of Lucinda's that had not been disturbed. It had not been moved since 1916 when Arthur Abrams himself carried it down there. From the estate, he transported himself to Pakistan to find Figgins.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Specter~Chapter 7**_

Quinn's alarm buzzed at 7 a.m. She found and hit the snooze button a couple times before finally pulling herself from the bed and stretching. The room was still dark but not pitch-black like it had been at night. She pulled open the drapes and looked out at the already pretty day and the infinite blue of the ocean.

She wandered into the bathroom and got her shower going.

_Even the shower is top-notch_, she thought, letting the water spray down over her as she woke up. _I could get used to this!_

She stepped out of the shower to dry off and get dressed for the day. She automatically reached down to her right to pick up her brush to brush out her wet hair but her brush was not there.

_I know I left it there last night_, she thought, recalling brushing her hair out before bed. She looked at her confused expression in the mirror. She glanced down at the basin again and saw her brush to the left. She looked back to the mirror.

_Odd…I know it was on the right…_

She finished getting ready, thinking she just forgot where she put her hairbrush the night before, and went downstairs to the side foyer to disarm the security system a little before 8. She wandered through the kitchen quickly, entered the code to turn off security, then walked back into the kitchen…staring at the wide open basement door.

_I know for sure I shut and locked it last night…definitely! _she thought, going over to shut it again. She peeked down the stairs, no lights were on. She shook her head a bit, as if trying to clear her thoughts. She heard a car pull through the side drive, then another one, then car doors shutting and people laughing. Her day was about to begin.

_xxxxx_

"Mr. Figgins, may I have a moment, please?" Sam asked the spirit supervisor.

Figgins was floating above ruins in Pakistan, seemingly meditating on a large fluffy white cloud.

He popped open one eye to see who was speaking to him.

"Go ahead, my son," he replied finally.

Sam sat down next to him. "A girl I loved before I died seems to be alive again."

Figgins looked at him, fully interested now. "Explain more please."

"She died as an older woman; I watched her pass away. She never came back as a spirit so I guess she stayed in heaven. But, I've seen a human girl who looks just like her, acts just like her, sounds just like her…even has a mark in her right eye just like the girl I loved."

Figgins thought about this for a moment.

"She has not felt you, has she?" he asked.

Sam recalled the chill he had when she passed through him.

"I don't think so…" It was a little white lie, so what? "Why?"

"If you felt her and _she_ felt _your _presence, there is a connection between you two…you could reveal yourself to her but that is very risky…"

"Reveal myself? Why would it be risky?" Sam asked.

"You could scare her to death, literally," Figgins told him. "Yes, you can reveal yourself to her but you'll have to figure out how to do that for yourself. It's different for every spirit who experiences a connection with one of the living."

Sam sat and considered this.

"How is it possible that she came back?" Sam asked Figgins.

"I've heard about a new program, called _Rebirth_. She might've taken part in that. The spirit signs a release to be born again as a human…"

Sam sat up straighter. "So it could be her then?"

"When the spirit signs the release to be reborn, they lose all memories of their past life…" Figgins continued. "So, even if it is her, she wouldn't remember you."

"Oh…" Sam's shoulders slumped again. "I see."

_xxxxx_

"So, what're ya gonna do?" Finn asked him. Sam had just explained what Figgins had told him.

He shrugged. "I just don't know. If it _is _her she won't remember me. If I reveal myself to her…and I don't know how to even do that…it might scare her to death, he said."

Finn let out a low whistle. "Wow…that would be bad."

If a spirit caused a death via haunting, be it intentionally or accidentally, they were sent directly to hell.

"Well, Figgins asked me if she felt me and I said no…" Sam said and stopped.

"She did though and so did you…"

"Figgins said there might be a connection between us if she felt my presence…maybe she would remember me…" Sam said.

"Ohhh…" Finn said, then looked at him. "Wait…you're gonna try, aren't you?"

"If she is Lucinda, I need to try…" Sam said, poofing away.

_xxxxx_

"Any issues last night?" Emma asked her.

Quinn smiled. "None at all. That bed is heavenly!"

"Oh yes…it should be…custom made and all. Will said he'd make us omelets this morning, if that sounds okay," she said.

"Sounds perfect!"

After breakfast, Quinn and Emma got to work, bringing up several boxes and getting them cataloged. It was mostly people who stayed there the earliest, dating around the 1870s. As they went through the belongings, Quinn kept a list of names of people she planned on researching at the library over the weekend. Sometimes, it was hard to not get caught up in reading the letters of the time or examining old pictures. Finally, they got into a rhythm and moved through things quickly, only sharing things they found interesting to the history of the estate, such as pictures taken on the grounds.

By lunchtime, they had been through several boxes from the basement and were excited when they started moving further ahead in time. It was steady work until suppertime when Will told them it was time for a break. He was right, Quinn thought, her eyes were crossing from entering data and searching through boxes.

He had grilled chicken outside, so they took supper on the back patio enjoying the late spring day.

"I think I might walk around the grounds a bit this evening to take pictures," Quinn told them.

"There are so many beautiful flower gardens and picturesque scenes, definitely go to the bluff and take pictures of the ocean…it's beautiful at sunset," Emma told her.

"I think I shall," Quinn replied, feeling slightly like royalty with the china and crystal before her.

After supper, Emma and Quinn straightened up the office while Will cleaned up the kitchen. Quinn switched out memory cards in her camera and slung the strap around her neck. As they left, she armed the estate and waved goodbye to Will and Emma and then began wandering around.

Emma was not lying about the flower gardens; they were exotic and full of color and life. Will did a great job caring for the plants, it was obvious. Quinn took many pictures of the flowers, finding her favorite honeysuckle, then turned her lens toward the actual estate. She wandered from the side to the back to the other side and then to the front, taking pictures at all different angles. Finally, she walked to the edge of the bluff that the home sat on and looked out to the ocean, watching the tide move rhythmically back and forth. Even though they told her that all the stones used on the house and grounds were taken from the rock outcroppings at the ocean's edge, she could still see tons of rocks down there. She took pictures of far-off yachts and the outlying forest surrounding the estate. She took pictures of the estate from the bluff, encompassing most of its land.

Sam followed her around, unbeknownst to her, watching her take photos. He decided to try something. Maybe the first time had just been a fluke of some sort, though it had never happened to him since becoming a spirit.

She was heading back toward the house as the sun was setting and the light was getting low. He stood at the side patio, directly in her path, and let her pass through him.

It happened again…the chill, the rush of nausea…she stopped as soon as she felt it and turned to see what she had walked through. It had been cold, just like at the office door. Her stomach lurched. The day was hot and humid, even at that hour, yet she had just walked through a cold pocket. He watched her reaction; he could see a bit of fear, a bit of confusion, a bit of unknowing what was going on. She turned and entered the code and ran inside.

_xxxxx_

Inside, she set the alarm and ran upstairs to the suite and locked herself in. She wasn't sure what to think. That was the second time she had felt the chill and the nausea…could it be coincidence?

"I'm just getting sick…that's all," she said, sighing, not wanting to come down with a cold at the beginning of her internship.

She turned on the TV for some background noise, then opened her laptop.

Santana had responded to her. Her fancy internship was actually crappy.

_Sure they need my Spanish interpreting skills…so I can go down the street to the Mexican place and get their effing lunch! _she had written to Quinn along with some Spanish curses.

Quinn giggled a bit but stopped herself; _it's not nice to laugh at my friends_, she thought, giggling again.

She next downloaded all her new pictures to her laptop to look at them again.

"That's odd…" she mumbled out loud. In most of the pictures she had taken there was a filmy area, almost smoke like, in different parts of the picture, as if someone was smoking a cigarette just outside the frame and she picked up their smoke. Not in all pictures, though. The ocean pictures were free of the strange pigment. She sighed. "I'll try again another day. Maybe have my camera looked at." She had taken pictures all day of possessions from the boxes and no pictures had the smoky area on them.

She got up and changed into some pajamas, then hopped back into bed to watch a little TV.

_xxxxx_

_How can I test her knowledge of me? _Sam thought, watching her go through her pictures, a worried expression on her face. He knew she was doing research with Emma so he floated off to the office to check it out.

He saw her list of names to research and was a bit shocked at how her handwriting even resembled Lucinda's, a very neat yet modern cursive.

He knew that they were pulling boxes from the basement…_the basement_!

He floated to the kitchen but this time just passed through the basement door. In the basement, he found Lucinda's trunk. He pushed it away from where it had sat since 1916, out where it would catch the girl's eye, hopefully prompting her to check it out.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Specter~Chapter 8**_

The next morning, Quinn awoke refreshed. She had had no problem falling asleep and staying asleep. In the bathroom, everything was exactly as she had left it the night before. She took a shower and dressed for the day, then went to the kitchen to disarm the security system. The basement door was still shut and locked, nothing out of place. She smiled. It was going to be a great day.

Breakfast was yummy; Will had brought bagels. The morning was lovely, so they decided to take their meals on the back patio. After breakfast, Quinn and Emma got to work. Emma led the way downstairs to the basement and Quinn followed. She turned the corner and stopped. The trunk she had seen before had been moved.

"Emma? Did you move this trunk?" Quinn asked her. Emma looked back at her and where she was pointing.

"Hmm…I moved things around a bit yesterday…I may have…" she replied, going back to the boxes she was looking at.

"Okay…" Quinn replied, pushing her cart to load up boxes.

All day long she thought of that trunk.

_xxxxx_

The trunk sat untouched all day. A storm was moving in that evening so Quinn stayed inside the house after Will and Emma left. Before retiring upstairs for the night, she ran down to the basement and quickly moved the trunk back to where it had been. She stood there staring at it, willing it to move on its own, and when it didn't she ran back upstairs, shut and locked the basement door.

Standing in the kitchen, a flash of lightning and crack of thunder sent her running upstairs to the suite. She shut and locked _that _door and leaned against it, catching her breath.

"Calm down, silly, it's just a storm," she said to herself and walked through the suite to the bedroom to flip on the TV and her laptop.

Her mom had emailed her, so she responded to that, and wrote Santana again. She was surprised to see a message from Noah.

_Hey babe…been missin you…maybe I can come visit?_

She sighed. She had to sleep on that request.

The storm was raging overhead; the lights and TV flickered. She turned off her laptop and unplugged it and her cell phone.

_Did Will or Emma mention a generator?_ she thought. _This is a fine time to wonder about that!_

She got up off the bed and went to the windows to watch the storm over the ocean and stood there transfixed by the lightning. She wondered about the townfolk of Battenfield and decided to make it a priority to get there over the weekend. Another crash of thunder sent her scurrying back to the bed. The lights flickered again a few times but thankfully stayed on.

The storm finally passed over, and she fell into a fitful sleep.

_xxxxx_

Sam watched her during the storm. After she fell asleep, he floated to the basement and saw the trunk moved back to its original position. He again moved it, this time to a new place. He floated back to her room. She was tossing and turning. Another storm was on the horizon, moving over the estate, then out over the ocean.

In the sitting room of the suite, Sam sat down at a table with pen and paper. He figured what he was about to do would either pique her interest in the trunk further or send her packing.

On the paper, he scrawled out _Lucindy _and left it at that.

_xxxxx_

Quinn woke up feeling tired, not well rested at all. It had stormed through the night, and the morning was overcast still. She pulled herself from bed and took a shower, not even bothering to notice if things had been moved.

In the kitchen, she did notice the basement door still shut and locked. She went ahead and disarmed the security system, happy to see it was still armed after the power surges the night before.

Will and Emma arrived and asked about the storm and she told them about the lights flickering a bit. They said that that was common and that yes there was generator backup.

"How did you sleep, Quinn?" Emma asked, noticing the dark circles under Quinn's eyes though she had tried to cover them up.

"The storm kept me awake a bit but otherwise fine," Quinn said, forcing a smile.

They ate breakfast inside since it was too dreary outside and then headed for the basement.

The first thing Quinn noticed was the trunk, this time moved out into the path of where she and Emma moved their carts. She sighed and moved it back, noting the name again. She didn't even bother asking Emma if she had moved it; she knew Emma had not moved it in the middle of the night.

They worked hard that day, moving forward in time. What they were finding was fascinating, pieces of stories about the folks who had passed through the estate, history of Battenfield, and a story of the estate itself was emerging.

That was the day they found the box containing Rachel Berry's possessions, the rumored paramour of Arthur Abrams.

"This is the jackpot!" Emma said, holding up a small leatherbound book. "A diary!"

Quinn scooted over next to Emma so Quinn could enter the information into the database as Emma read it.

"The diary actually begins in 1851…the first entry reads: Saw _Finn Hudson at market today_," Emma read, beaming.

"Finn Hudson?" Quinn asked. "I thought there was a relationship with Mr. Abrams."

Emma carefully turned the fragile pages of the notebook.

"She lost her first love in a tragic shipwreck…let's see…" Emma said, reading out to herself. "She mentions him sailing on the…oh my gosh…the _Lizzy Dean_!"

Emma continued. "She says it was Finn's first time sailing and he was going with his friend Sam Evans, the beau of her friend Lucinda Fabbrae."

Quinn looked up sharply. "Wait…who was her friend?"

Emma looked at her quizzically. "I think it says Lucinda Fabbrae…" She turned the book to let Quinn read it. Quinn had training in reading old handwriting and the name jumped up off the page at her. It was the name she had seen on the trunk in the basement.

Emma read more from the diary…the details of the _Lizzy Dean _shipwreck and how eventually Rachel came to live at the Arthur Abrams estate. In the diary, she referred to him as 'Artie' and he had been a close friend of Finn Hudson and Sam Evans. After the shipwreck, it seemed she became closer to Lucinda and eventually they both wound up living at Artie's massive estate as both sets of their parents had passed away and Rachel and Lucinda were considered spinsters during those times, neither one ever marrying.

"Hmm…it seems something did start up between Rachel and Mr. Abrams in later years…maybe a _very _close companionship," Emma said.

"Does she mention Lucinda anymore?"

"I don't think so…maybe?" Emma flipped carefully to the end of the diary. "The last entry for the diary is 1918." She set the diary aside and pulled out other items from the box. "A Torah, some playbills from performances in Battenfield, oh! Pictures!"

She and Quinn studied the few pictures. In most of the pictures, there was a petite brunette, always smiling. In some pictures, it was the petite brunette alongside an equally petite man, Emma said that that was Artie, and in a few pictures the petite brunette was standing next to a taller slim light-haired lady.

"This one says _Lucinda and me, 1888_ on the back of it," Emma said, handing Quinn the picture.

Quinn looked at it, holding her breath. It was as if she had dressed up in period clothing and someone had taken _her _picture. It was like looking at herself.

"Such pretty ladies," she said, handing the picture back to Emma.

"Yes, very stylish…Lucinda's smile is so…_haunting_," Emma noted.

Quinn _mhmm'd_ her agreement and noted what they had found on the database. She really just wanted to get through Rachel's items and move on.

"Looks like there is some jewelry, some costume and some possibly real," Emma said, holding up rings, necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. Carefully, she unfolded some dresses and also removed several pairs of fancy shoes. There were a couple hats there also.

"She was very stylish, I'd say," Emma remarked.

"Yes, very," Quinn agreed. She stared at one of the hats and for some reason the thought _Artie bought that_ _for her _floated through her mind.

After photographing and documenting all the items, they were carefully stored back into the box from which they came. Going through Rachel Berry's possessions took up the rest of their day of research, and, after seeing and reading some of that stuff, Quinn was ready to take a break. She offered to take the boxes back to the basement before supper while Emma straightened up the office.

In the basement, Quinn unloaded the boxes they had gone through and again saw the trunk sitting in the same spot. _Lucinda Q Fabbrae_, she read. The trunk intrigued her but still she left it be.

After supper, Will and Emma left and as was becoming routine Quinn made sure the basement door was shut and locked. She set the alarm and decided to explore the ground floor a bit.

In the front salon, she took the time to examine Mr. Abrams' personal treasures sitting on the shelves. She saw small pictures showing him and different ladies and men who appeared to be dignitaries. In a number of the pictures, Quinn spied one Rachel Berry, either on Artie's arm or in the background.

In the back salon, she looked at the spines of the books in the reading nook and saw all the classics, which appeared well read by many hands over the years. She sat in an armchair and imagined what life was like for the residents of the Abrams estate and how many of them might've congregated in this parlor for companionship to combat the loneliness. As she sat there, the house was quiet. She wasn't alone though.

She stood to go upstairs and just as she got to the door of the salon she felt the chill again. She stopped herself where she felt the coolness and fought through the nauseous feeling.  
She closed her eyes and let herself _feel_ the presence. It was building, building, deep in her core…she finally stepped forward, her heart racing, her breathing deep. She grabbed the doorframe to brace herself. She had not had too many in her lifetime but she was pretty sure she was on the brink of an orgasm. One word kept pulsing through her brain: _Sam_.

She turned suddenly and said to the empty room, "I know I'm not alone. Who are you?"

He stood there, not moving. He had expected her to pass through him, not stop. They shared the same energy then, the longer she stayed within his presence, and the nausea he had been feeling soon turned to pleasure. He felt he was going to explode when she finally stepped away from him. He knew that feeling; it had happened the summer of 1852, the day she said he'd have to marry her before they did anything else in the meadow.

He heard her speak to him but he couldn't answer her, not in a way she would understand. So, he reached out to her and stroked her cheek.

She stared into the emptiness of the room, then felt the chill along her cheek. She bit back a scream and ran upstairs to the suite and locked herself in, trying to catch her breath at the door. She then walked swiftly to the bedroom but heard something flutter to the floor. She stopped and looked to the sitting room and walked slowly back that way.

A piece of paper caught her eye, now lying on the floor. She picked it up, not seeing anything on it, and turned it over. She gasped, dropped it, and ran to the bedroom.

_Lucindy_ it read in scratchy old-fashioned handwriting.


	9. Chapter 9

_**Specter~Chapter 9**_

Quinn pulled her suitcases to the massive bed and began tossing stuff inside them. No way was she staying at the estate one minute longer. She had felt a presence, things moved on their own, the chilly streak down her cheek, and now a note left in her suite, bearing that woman's name. Nope, too many oddities to keep her there any longer. She scrambled looking for her cell phone and Emma's number but couldn't think straight to find either.

She was picking up her clothes that she had left scattered about the floor, then went to toss in her laptop and camera and remembered the pictures she had taken with the weird steamy images. She sat down on the bed to calm herself down and looked through the pictures again. Why had she thought _Sam _downstairs? She had only first heard that name that afternoon and, of course, in relation to Lucinda Fabbrae.

"I just need to calm down, I need to _calm down_," Quinn said out loud to herself. "Whatever is going on, they aren't trying to hurt me…they would've done that already." She rolled her eyes. "This isn't a horror movie, Quinn, this is real life!"

_Maybe it's Lucinda trying to contact me…maybe Rachel since I am sleeping in Artie's bedroom_…Quinn thought. _Why would Rachel leave me a note saying Lucindy though? And why was it spelled Lucindy?_

"Ugh…" Quinn muttered, looking around the still room. "Is it you Artie?"

Nothing but silence in the room. Sam watched and listened to all this; he was trying to gauge her reaction to the piece of paper he had written on. At first blush, he was pretty sure she was going to run…now, though, as she sat on the bed he thought there might be a chance she'd stay. As long as he didn't scare her anymore…he'd have to trust that she'd open Lucinda's trunk.

Quinn slowly began unpacking her suitcases. She would stay until she felt she was in harm. Truthfully, she had felt quite comfortable there since arriving, almost as if she had been there before. She shook that feeling off as doing all the research the past couple days but she also couldn't deny she had felt it since arriving in Battenfield. And the picture…the picture of Rachel and Lucinda…seeing that girl's face, so much like her own, had really freaked her out yet it was if she expected to see herself standing next to Rachel Berry. And, though she had been startled nearly out of her wits just a moment ago, she still didn't feel truly in fear. She walked into the sitting room and picked up the piece of paper from where she had dropped it.

Back in the bedroom she said to the open space, "I don't know who you are or what you want with me…I will stay here as long as you don't try to hurt me…"

Sam listened to her words; it hurt him to think she'd think he'd ever try to hurt her.

"I need answers though…why me? Why is it me you're seeking?"

The room was quiet. She hadn't expected someone to appear suddenly and begin answering her questions…she didn't know what to expect. She picked up her camera and began snapping shots around the room. She started by pointing the camera to her left, then in front of her, then to her right, and then behind her.

She looked at all four shots and saw a smoky image on the third one. She looked directly where Sam was standing, staring at her.

"You're here, aren't you?" she asked quietly, smiling a bit, dropping her camera to the bed.

She walked toward where the smoky streaks appeared in her picture. It surprised him that she honed in on him so quickly. She stopped mere inches away from him. She reached out into the nothingness.

Her hand was suddenly chilled. She pulled her hand back and gasped a bit. He floated away from her. She reached out again but there was no chill. She frowned.

"Why are you hiding from me? I want to know more about you," Quinn said.

Sam watched from behind her. Eventually, she sat down on the bed again.

"This is insane," she said finally. "I'm standing in here talking to ghosts, expecting them to answer me! Oh my god! It's like _The Shining_…I'm losing my mind!"

She laughed a bit and opened her laptop.

He wanted nothing more to be able to answer her, to let her know who he was and what she meant to him, what _he _ had meant to _her_.

She emailed her mom and Santana that things were going fine at the estate, no worries whatsoever. She emailed Noah that it'd be nice to see him soon. She then turned to Google. She wasn't even sure what to research. Spooks? Hauntings? Ghosts? She sighed. She finally typed in 'paranormal activity'. She'd seen the movies. It certainly wasn't _that _bad at the estate, at least she hoped it didn't get that bad.

She learned that there are ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, and hauntings. She had not seen anything, except on her camera, and had not heard anything so she felt she was dealing with a spirit. She read about trapped spirits and free spirits. She read about how it might feel to a human to experience the presence of a spirit. The more she read, the more convinced she was that someone or something was trying to communicate with her. Exhausted and crashing from her earlier adrenaline burst, she shut the laptop and fell asleep with a light on.

He watched her sleep and decided he wasn't going to stray far from the estate until he had figured out a way to communicate with her. He picked up the slip of paper he had written on and set it on her nightstand.

_xxxxx_

In the morning, Quinn woke up, stretched, then saw the piece of paper on the nightstand. She didn't remember putting it there the night before but then again couldn't really remember much of what happened then. She decided to ask Emma for more details about the estate.

Once in the office (again, the Lucinda Fabbrae trunk had been moved), Quinn decided to broach the subject carefully.

"Um, Emma? Have you ever noticed anything…_odd..._happening here?" Quinn asked her.

"Odd? Such as?" Emma asked, afraid this topic was going to come up eventually.

"Like, things moving that shouldn't be able to move on their own," Quinn said.

"Oh…" Emma cleared her throat and sitting up straighter. "That's happened a time or two."

"So, you've experienced a-a presence-then?"

"I'd have to say I have. As has William. We think they are friendly spirits…"

"_They?_" Quinn asked, shocked.

"We've always thought there is more than one spirit lingering about the estate. Nothing evil though," Emma said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Has something happened overnight that you're concerned about?"

Quinn decided to hold back on the images on her camera and the chill she felt sometimes and the piece of paper with _Lucindy _written on it.

"There is a trunk in the basement that seems to be moved every morning," she told Emma.

Emma chuckled. "Sounds like our little buddies are at it again!"

Quinn looked dumbfounded.

"It's probably because they sense you are here, someone new to tease," Emma said. "They're harmless. I hope this doesn't scare you off; your help so far this week has been indispensable to the estate."

"Oh, no, I'm not scared…just a bit concerned, that's all," Quinn told her. "Have they ever tried to communicate with you?"

Emma thought for a moment. "No, not that I'm aware. They usually move things of mine, really just to annoy me. With Will, it's the same…he might set something down in the kitchen and go back to it and it's been moved to the front salon…that kind of thing."

"Okay, that at least makes me feel more at ease, then," Quinn said. In a way, it did. On the other hand, _two _spirits? How many was she dealing with?

After that conversation and researching the next couple days away, Quinn relaxed on the back patio that evening with a mojito to celebrate one week of working at the estate. She _so _needed the drink. She had found white rum and lime juice in the kitchen, so she mixed them up herself using fresh mint from the estate and called Santana.

"It sucks here! It's loud, dirty, everyone's a cranky bitch, and the only Spanish I'm speaking is down at the Mexican place or the coffee bar where the barista is Latina…oh my god," Santana grumbled. "How about you? What're you doing this weekend?"

She sipped on her drink.

"I'm sorry to hear that, San. It's going fine here. I'm getting a lot of research done for the estate, the place is haunted, I have my own personal chef…"

"Wait-_what?_"

"I have my own personal chef. He's great. He's also the gardener and -"

"Haunted! You said the place is _haunted_!"

"Oh…right. A little, I guess. Friendly ghosts," Quinn said, giggling a bit as she finished her drink. She poured herself another. "Ya know, like Casper!"

Sam watched this exchange with amusement. Santana was stunned into silence on the other end of the phone.

"Emma, the lady I work with, said that this has been happening for some time…they move things around," Quinn told her.

"There's more than one? How does she know?" Santana asked her, snapping out of her shock.

"Hmm, I don't know how she knows, Santana! It's been happening to me too, though…this one trunk in the basement keeps moving," Quinn said, sipping her drink. Sam sat up straighter when he heard her mention Lucinda's trunk.

"Really? The same trunk keeps moving?" Santana said.

"Mhmm…"

"Then maybe you should check it out, Quinn! It's probably a sign!" Santana nearly shrieked on the other end.

"Check it out? We'll get to it eventually…"

"No! Check it out like now! Or tomorrow! Or your next available research time!"

"Well, it's the weekend and Emma won't be back until Monday…I'm going to explore the town tomorrow and check out the library," Quinn said, running her finger around the glass's rim. Sam watched her intently. If only he could mentally will her to go open Lucinda's trunk…

"Now I need to know what's in that trunk!" Santana said, laughing. "You're not, like, afraid at all to stay there alone?"

Quinn thought for a moment, remembering a couple nights ago when she nearly packed her bags and left.

"I'm good," she replied, smiling and finishing her drink.

_xxxxx_

On Saturday morning, Quinn set off from the estate to walk to town. She needed the exercise and the weather was gorgeous so she put on some shorts and sneakers, a t-shirt, and a sun hat and off she went. She carried her laptop in her backpack for hopeful research at the library. She had her list of names to check out and she also wanted to research this _Lizzy Dean _shipwreck.

She walked out to the lane to take her to the road into town. She crossed the stone bridge and listened to the birds singing their early morning songs to one another.

She had slept fine the night before-the mojitos probably helped-but couldn't help to feel she was not alone most times. She had not felt the cool presence again and had not seen any inanimate objects out of place, though she had not ventured down to the basement either.

It took her nearly 20 minutes to get out to the road, and she turned right and headed toward Battenfield. Sam followed behind her, floating amongst the trees of the forest, thinking of how he used to stop her on this very road as she took the eggs to town. If only she'd have some memory of it…

The road to town was quiet, hardly any traffic. It took her another 20 minutes to start seeing the houses on Main Street.

From what Quinn could see from that end of the town, along Main Street, it was a very quaint seaside town, sitting high up on a bluff like the Abrams estate. The houses sat close to Main Street and were painted lively colors of yellow, blue, even a pink and purple. Some were brick with flat faces directly on the street. All were adorned with pretty flowers and gates and walkways. There were several cross streets as she approached the very center of the town. She passed a Jackson, then an Adams, then a Washington.

_I wonder if the Evans homestead is still out north of town?_ she thought and then stopped in her tracks. _Why did I just think that? Like the thought about Rachel's hat.  
_

She shook her head, confused, and continued onward.

The houses gave way to businesses...a stationery shop, antiques, a fish market, a fruit stand, a general store.

_I wonder if they still sell fresh eggs?_ she thought and again stopped in her tracks. The feeling of déjà vu was tremendous, nearly overwhelming to her. _Well, I will just put this theory to test!_

She walked into the general store, stood there a moment, then walked directly to the back right corner where there was a sign stating _fresh eggs_. She left the store quickly, found a bench on the sidewalk, and sat down, freaking out a little. Sam watched all this; he knew the general store and it really hadn't changed too much in the past 100 or so years. They added electricity but they still bought and sold fresh eggs, even from the same spot within the store. He watched her go directly to that spot and then flee. He could sense that maybe, just maybe, some of this was coming back to her. He sat next to her on the bench and, really without thinking, reached out and touched her arm.

The sudden cool chill caused her to yank her arm away and hold it close to her, almost as if she had been burned. She stared at the empty space next to her on the bench.

"Why are you following me?" she hissed quietly, anger and fear flashing in her beautiful eyes.

He would've given anything to be able to reassure her that he was there for her, to be able to hold her so she wouldn't be afraid.

When there was no response, Quinn sighed. _Okay, that was weird, I'm sure lots of markets in these coastal towns sell fresh eggs and I just knew where to look._ She looked up and down Main Street for the library. Emma had told her it was off the street where there was an old schoolhouse, Carter Street. Quinn spotted a brick three-story building a couple blocks past the center of town so headed down that way. As she approached the brick school building, again the feeling of _knowing _the place washed over her again.

_I loved those photography classes there_, Quinn thought out of the blue. _No! No I didn't! I've never even seen that building!_

She saw that she was at Carter Street and turned right, a little flustered by the thoughts she kept having. The library was just a couple blocks down. It seemed to be a busy place with many people and children coming and going. _A good distraction_, she thought.

As she neared the building, she thought _It's been updated! _ and then shook her head again. She had expected an old style two-story-tall Carnegie library, made of sandstone and with great columns at the front, she wasn't sure why, but this building was definitely modernized. It was still sandstone but had smooth lines and angles. It was still two stories tall but had impressive windows, a large entryway with smooth stone steps that gleamed in the sunlight, and even a side patio where Quinn saw people reading and enjoying a latte or tea. The feeling of déjà vu wasn't _as _strong but she wondered if that was because the building had been modernized.

_The old oaks haven't changed much_, she thought and grimaced, rubbing her temples. _Where were these thoughts coming from?_

She knew where she might find some answers. She walked up the steps to the heavy oaken doors, took a deep breath, and entered the library.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Specter~Chapter 10**_

Inside the library, it was abuzz with activity. _Not like the library I remember_, she thought suddenly. These vague and intermittent thoughts were nearly making her nauseous. She walked to the desk in the center of everything going on.

"The genealogy department, please," she mumbled.

The library technician at the desk, a young man, handed her a brochure that gave information about what local history was held at the library and looked at her closely.

"Are you okay? You seem pale. There is a cafe just to your left where you can get a water," he said to her.

She smiled wanly. "I'm fine, thank you."

The genealogy department was located upstairs at the back of the library, so she headed that way. Sam floated along after her, also interested in what she might find.

She found a desk off the beaten path and set up her laptop, happy to see they had WiFi and power sources at the desks. Sitting down and focusing on her research calmed her nerves a bit. She had her list of names handy and began with those from the first few days of research. It didn't take too long to research those folks and enter their info into her laptop. She then searched for and found some local history books. She wanted more information about this _Lizzy Dean _shipwreck in 1852.

The first surprise she found was that one Arthur Abrams had been one of the main designers of the schooner. The article she read went on to give his history quite in depth. Apparently, he blamed himself for the shipwreck of the _Lizzy Dean_ due to his faulty design, which wasn't true...Captain Dean had veered off course in the dense fog. He went on to better educate himself about ship building, used that skill during the Civil War, and then used the money he earned to build his large estate. He began allowing widows of the men from the _Lizzy Dean _to live there. He was quoted as saying it "was the least he could do" for the families of the men who died at sea.

The second surprise she found was a picture of the _Lizzy Dean _crew, taken while they were in Portland. Sam floated behind Quinn as she read the article about his doomed ship. He, of course, remembered the incident in great detail and didn't quite enjoy recalling it. He remembered the day they took the photograph...the second time his image was captured. It was a daguerreotype and they had to stand still next to the boat for at least 10 minutes. He stood next to Finn Hudson and behind Lucinda's father who had just told him that he may ask for her hand in marriage. He remembered his smile that day, even after 10 minutes it was still plastered to his face.

Quinn studied the picture closely and read the caption. She followed the names with her finger until she saw an _R. Fabbrae_. She found him in the picture, or who she thought was him. A quick scan of the names revealed no other Fabbraes. This man was older, with a long thick white beard, holding his hat in his hands. The next row of names revealed an _F. Hudson _ and _S. Evans_, standing directly behind Fabbrae. She squinted at the picture. She could see Finn Hudson quite well since he was fairly tall. He had a dopey grin on his face and dark brown shaggy hair. Sam Evans, though, was harder to make out, being partially obscured by Mr. Fabbrae in front of him. He appeared to have lighter hair and also sported a dopey grin. He looked so happy in that picture, though, she thought. She made a copy of the picture for her records. She read about the schooner's return trip and the crash into the rocks in the middle of the night. How terrifying that must've been, drowning in the icy cold waters of the unforgiving sea. She read through the list of the dates the men were found, those dates considered their date of death. She saw that Sam Evans was the last one found...date of death was logged as November 10, 1852.

The next thing she studied was the 1850 census. The first name she looked up was _R. Fabbrae_. She found Lucinda listed under this name. The family was listed as such:

Fabbrae Russell T M Head 42 Sailor  
" Judithe A F Wife 38 At home  
" Frances A F Dau 18 At home  
" Lucinda Q F Dau 14 School  
" Beatrice J F Dau 12 School

The census taker thankfully had noted in the margin where these people lived. The Fabbraes lived on West County Road 100 South. Now, Quinn had Lucinda's parents' and siblings names and ages in 1850 and their occupations, even where they lived. The next name she looked up was Sam Evans. She found his family living on Washington Street.

Evans Jona M Head 38 Clerk  
" Mary F Wife 36 At home  
" Samuel F M Son 15 School  
" Steven J M Son 10 School  
" Stacia A F Dau 8 School

Sam read over Quinn's shoulder. He remembered the tall skinny man with the pointy beard coming to their home and asking his mother all the questions, their names, ages, what they did. He remembered his little brother and sister running around like chickens with their heads cut off, at least that's what his mother had said once the census man had left. He smiled at the memory.

Quinn noted Finn Hudson living close to the Evans. She found his listing interesting:

Hummel Albert M Head 37 Wagon repair shop  
" Caroline F Wife 36 At home  
Hudson Finn M Stepson 16 School  
Hummel Kurt M Son 15 School

If she thought Finn Hudson's entry was interesting, Rachel Berry's entry totally intrigued her:

Berry LeRoy M Head 50 Theater manager  
" Rachel F Dau 15 At school

And right next door to them was a Hiram Berry, single and living alone, age 50, theater owner. Rachel's diary had mentioned "fathers" several times but no mention of a "mother."

She made copies of all the census information. A picture of these people was coming together in her mind. Her next bit of research was to look for anything else remotely associated with Lucinda Fabbrae and Sam Evans. Unfortunately, all she found for Sam Evans was his entry on the 1850 census, the notation of his service on the _Lizzy Dean_, and where he was buried. There was a bit more for Lucinda since she lived until 1916.

Quinn noticed Lucinda began showing up more in records around the 1880s. Before that, she had been noted on the 1850 census and a couple times in the daily newspaper. At some point in the 1880s, Lucinda acquired a camera and began submitting photos to the newspaper. Quinn held her breath as she read about Ms. Lucinda Fabbrae's _photographie workshop_, held at the _publick schoolhouse _in 1902. The only other mention of Lucinda was her obituary, which Quinn made a copy of as well.

She stretched and looked at the time. She had been there for four hours, the research consuming her. Her tummy grumbled at her and she realized she had skipped lunch. Since the library was getting ready to close being a Saturday, she decided to stop at one of the cozy cafes along Main Street. She loaded up her laptop and research into her backpack and left the library. As she passed the help desk for the genealogy department, she asked the lady there where the old pioneer cemetery was located. That would be her journey for Sunday.

_xxxxx_

She stopped at the Battenfield Inn café and sat down at an outside table. She looked over the menu and ordered a seafood salad and a _Lizzy Dean_, a virgin drink containing ginger ale, pineapple juice, cranberry juice, apple juice, and orange juice. Her lunch came and she sipped on the fruity drink, thinking about her research and her odd erratic thoughts from earlier in the day. She pulled out her notebook to write them down.

_-Thought of Evans homestead at Washington Street; census proved he lived there  
-Thought of fresh eggs at the general store, ? ?  
-Thought of photography lessons at the old school; newspaper article proved Lucinda gave lessons there  
-Thought that library had been updated, ? ?  
_

She just didn't know what to make of all this. She also was curious as to where Lucinda had lived before moving to the Abrams estate, to see if any odd thoughts came to her there. She sighed. It was all overwhelming to a degree. She decided that her Sunday research would be riding the bike to find the Fabbrae residence if it still stood and finding the old pioneer cemetery.

She walked back to the Abrams estate, pretty much exhausted from the exercise, just getting back as the sun was setting. It was a lovely night so she sat on the balcony of her suite and gazed out at the ocean. She had had no more thoughts and no more chills that day to suggest she was experiencing anything paranormal so she was able to relax a bit.

Looking down at the ocean's edge, she noticed a long pier she hadn't seen before and a long set of steps leading down to it. The landing of the steps was tucked in a tidy flower garden that she hadn't noticed when exploring earlier. The pier seemed to be reinforced with similar stone as the house was made of. She grabbed her camera and wandered down to the landing of the steps. It was going to be a long walk back up, but she told herself the exercise would be great for her and she began her descent.

She slipped down the stone steps quickly and walked out onto the slightly swaying pier. She walked to the end of it, snapping pictures up and down the coast and of the sunset. The breeze from the ocean was wonderful. She could taste the sea spray on her lips. She turned and took pictures of the estate from this vantage point. She walked a couple steps back down the pier then stopped at one of the supports. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of sadness washed over her.

_I won't cry...it won't bring him back_...she thought. Quinn stared at the large protruding sharp rocks at the shoreline, every muscle in her body clenching. Her breathing became gasps, then sobs. She slid down against the support, wrapping her arms around herself, confused as to why she was suddenly so sad and crying on the pier. Sam watched her from the stone steps.

_He came back for me, just like he promised_...The thoughts were racing through her mind as the cries shuddered through her body. _He should've never got on that rickety boat! Damn him all to hell!_

Sam floated down toward Quinn and sat next to her. She felt the coolness streak down her arm to her hand. She calmed her crying and looked at the empty space.

"You're here..."

She heard just the sound of the tide moving to and from shore. He'd give anything to talk to her.

She was weakened by the whole episode; she felt as though she were grieving. She stood up, still the coolness holding her hand, and headed for the stone steps. She held onto the coolness as she walked up the steps slowly and it stayed with her all the way to the estate.

Once in the suite, she looked through the pictures on her camera and saw the smoky streaks on the steps. Whoever the spirit was, they had been with her the entire time she was on the pier, watching over her. She fell into a fitful sleep, her dreams filled with darkness and a bell ringing and yelling. And the sound of the ocean.

She awoke with a start, thinking _why me?_

**A/N: I tried to set up the census information in columns but couldn't format it that way, that's why it's all jumbled together. :-( Hope you are enjoying the story so far; we're halfway through...I've already got it finished! So, drop me some reviews and I'll post the subsequent chapters. :) Thanks for reading!**_  
_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Specter~Chapter 11**_

Her head still ached from the night before. What she felt at the pier had been so strong, so _real_, it had shaken her to her core. It was an intense sense of loss, she felt. And then the dreams, or nightmares maybe...had been vivid yet she couldn't put a finger on what was going on. Something drastic and urgent, it seemed. She had felt the coolness on her hand until she fell asleep...had the spirit been with her all night long?

She pulled herself from bed and got ready to set off on her journey for that day. Emma had told her the bicycle was in the garage so after a quick breakfast and loading her backpack, Quinn found herself pushing out a three-wheeled bike from the garage, complete with a basket on the back and a horn.

"Wow...this thing is probably as old as that Phantom..." she mumbled. She set the alarm, hopped on the bike, and pedaled off, finding it wasn't a bad ride at all.

She rode down the drive of the estate to the main road to town. She had checked the map before leaving so she could find the county road she was looking for. Once to the main road, she turned left, away from town, and pedaled to the next road. That was County Road 100 South. She turned right, westward, and pedaled along a little ways with forest on both sides of the road. She decided that with the thoughts she experienced the day before she was going to see if they returned on her trip today. She passed a few drives and then approached a drive on her right and suddenly thought _they sure have let the weeds grow up!_

She couldn't believe it. She stopped the bike at the end of the drive and looked down it.

_It's been painted...I like the blue_...She now just let the thoughts come to her. It was a fairly simple two-story farmhouse, now blue with dark blue shutters. A car was parked in the drive so she didn't venture any closer. A giant oak in the front yard, just off the road, caught her eye. _Frannie and Bea loved to swing on that!_ She shook her head. _How do I know these things?_

It was beginning to freak her out, the strong feelings she had for this particular home, so she turned her bike around and headed back toward the main road, but not before snapping a couple pictures. Pedaling along, she avoided a large divot in the dirt road, almost as if she _knew_ it were there. _Sam nearly broke his ankle the time he fell in that hole!_ she thought. She had to stop the bike due to the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. She closed her eyes and thought. _He was walking me back home...it was dark and we forgot about that hole...he stepped in it and fell over, yelping, but hopped right up and was just fine...he had been holding my hand..._

"This is crazy..._I'm _crazy...my mind is just...just...conjecturing all this up, from all the research..." she mumbled out loud to herself.

Sam, floating behind her, also remembered falling in that hole the summer of 1852. He managed to get her to her door and then limped home himself. He had to avoid her for the next week due to his sprain...he didn't want her to think he had actually hurt himself. Finn had teased him mercilessly about that for quite some time.

She began pedaling again and at the main road turned left and headed to Battenfield. Her next stop was the cemetery.

_xxxxx_

She rode the bike down Main Street to Carter where the library was, passed Carter and went two blocks to Henry, and turned right. The librarian had told her to go all the way until the road made a sharp left turn...the cemetery was at the curve, sitting on the bluff overlooking the ocean. She turned onto Henry Street and rode a few blocks until she saw the sharp left turn and the iron gates signifying the old cemetery. She parked her bike at the gate and put her camera around her neck and began exploring the headstones, mostly old but a few more recent ones.

It was a very serene quiet place, calming to her. A soft breeze danced around the old trees surrounding the place, making it very peaceful. She had honestly been worried about experiencing something here but found it surprisingly..._restful_.

The newer headstones were toward the front and east side of the cemetery. She was interested in the older ones, closer to the edge of the bluff, lining the iron gate there. As she stepped carefully through the headstones, now familiar names jumped out at her: _Evans, Fabbrae, Abrams, Hudson, Berry_...She wanted to know their stories...who were these people and how had they lived?

She stopped at one particular headstone under a giant fir tree. She brushed aside the stray pine needles and saw _Lucinda Q Fabbrae_ carved on it. Only the years of birth and death were there, _1836-1916_. She sat down on the ground and took pictures of the headstone.

_I want to be placed next to Sam_...the thought meandered through Quinn's mind. There were no headstones around Lucinda's. Quinn looked around closely and saw a very worn wooden cross lying amongst the forest debris, probably having fallen over from weather, next to Lucinda's headstone. _She never forgot him_, Quinn thought sadly. She picked up the cross and could barely make out the faint initials, _S.F.E. 1852_.

_xxxxx_

She sat there for some time...occasional thoughts flooding her mind. This time, though, she allowed them in, didn't try to fight them.

_He said he'd marry me...I said I'd wait for him...I miss him dearly...maybe I should just join him in the afterlife..._

The thoughts in her mind were in her voice but more and more she was convinced they were Lucinda's own thoughts somehow being channeled through her.

She thought about them, as youngsters, Sam clearly excited about going on the schooner, Lucinda missing him every single day for the rest of her life, even being buried next to him. She needed to know more about Lucinda.

Sam sat on the ground with Quinn as she pondered these things. He watched her intently, how beautiful she looked with bits of sunlight raining down through the trees, her golden hair nearly a halo. He could sense she really wasn't afraid anymore, now she wanted answers.

She didn't feel alone.

"Are you here with me now, Sam?" she asked the space next to her.

He ran a hand down her arm and watched her shiver from his touch. _I am in spirit, Lucindy_.

_xxxxx_

"I don't know what to do, Sam...please help me..." she whispered, the breeze picking up around her.

He wanted her to hear his voice, to see him, to _touch _him. He had to figure that out for himself though. He did feel that if he revealed himself to her she'd be less fearful now. He needed her to open Lucinda's trunk. Maybe that'd help.

He touched her hand, and she smiled.

"Thank you for being here with me," she said quietly.

She took some photos of their grave sites and other photos of headstones that caught her attention. She realized the sun had disappeared and the breeze was now cool. She looked up to the sky and saw heavy gray clouds moving in. She tucked her camera in her backpack and left quickly on the bicycle, speeding through Battenfield, trying to get to the estate before the deluge of rain poured down on her. For the first time in the since being at the estate, she felt at ease, lighthearted, happy. It was short-lived because as she rode the bike down the drive to the estate and made the curve to pull up alongside the house she saw a familiar car parked under the covered drive.

"Jesus Quinn! Where've you been? I'm about to piss all over those pretty flowers!" Noah barked impatiently, pointing at the honeysuckle she loved.

Sam was floating behind Quinn, of course, and immediately did not care for the energy this guy was putting off.

"Noah! I didn't expect you!" Quinn said, hopping off the bike and rushing to his arms. He hugged her only briefly.

"Seriously, Quinn, I'm 'bout to piss down my leg..." he said gruffly.

"Sure, c'mon," she said, punching in the code and letting them into the estate.

"Holy shit...this place is _huge_!" Noah said, following Quinn through the rooms. "Just think of the badass party we could throw here! And on the ocean too!"

She stopped at the powder room just off the grand foyer. "Um, no, Noah, no way."

She listened to him whistle in the bathroom, where he didn't even shut the door.

"I'll be in the kitchen, Noah," she called to him, a little sick of listening to him pee.

She could hear him wandering around, checking out the lower floor of the estate, while she prepared a lunch for them in the kitchen. He finally made his way back to her.

"How'd you find me?" she asked him.

"Santana told me...you've been staying here alone at night?" he asked her.

She nodded, smiling. "Yeah, it's actually pretty cozy."

"Really? Seems kinda freaky to me...have any boys over?" he asked, coming up behind her and grinding up against her backside.

She shoved him off playfully. "God no, Noah! This is like a job, you dumbass!"

Sam watched from across the kitchen, not liking this Noah guy at all.

"I've missed your sexy ass..." Noah mumbled. "But I've kept myself busy."

"Oh really?" Quinn asked, flipping some chicken on the indoor grill.

"You don't think I've been sitting around moping about you, have you?" He chuckle. "'Cause that sure ain't been happenin'!"

Noah was walking backward alongside the center island and Sam couldn't resist. He stuck his foot out, causing Noah to trip and fall on his ass on the kitchen floor.

"What the fuck?" he yelled from the floor, getting up quickly. "What the hell did I just trip over?"

Quinn looked over her shoulder with just the slightest of smirks on her face. Noah brushed off his jeans and did his coolest swagger back over to Quinn.

"So, what'd'ya say we blow off food for a little bit and go get ourselves horizontal?" he mumbled, nuzzling up against her neck.

"That's really going to have to wait, Noah. I'm starving and don't you wanna hear about what I've been learning?" she asked, getting a bit annoyed with him.

He sighed loudly and plopped down at the table in the kitchen. Sam sat down across from him.

_He couldn't look more bored if he tried_, Quinn thought. Noah began drumming his fingers on the table, looking around the kitchen, continuing to sigh.

Suddenly, Sam moved the salt shaker across the table. Noah stopped what he was doing, his mouth hanging open a bit.

"How'd you do that?" he asked Quinn.

"Do what?"

"Move the salt shaker..."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Noah," she replied, tossing a salad together.

He rolled his eyes. "Why do you always have to be such a _bitch_, Quinn?"

Anger flashed through Sam. He picked up the glass salt shaker and through it to the ground. Noah jumped up, knocking his chair over in the process. Quinn turned around quickly, forgetting the chicken.

"Noah!"

"What the fuck! I didn't do that!"

"Oh my god…are you for real?" Quinn rushed to the pantry to get a broom and dustpan. "Ugh! Now the chicken is burning!"

She shoved the broom and dustpan in Noah's hands and turned her attention to the grill. Noah looked at her in a state of shock.

"Sweep it up!" she nearly shrieked.

He jumped into action then, sweeping the mess into a pile, then squatting down with the dustpan.

Sam was enjoying this, not so much seeing Quinn upset but seeing this jerk out of his element. Floating behind Noah, Sam knocked the broom from his hands.

"Hey!" Noah said, standing up suddenly, not knowing he was nose-to-nose with Sam.

"What?" Quinn said, annoyed, trying to salvage the chicken.

"The broom! It just got knocked outta my hands!"

Quinn stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him.

"And the salt shaker! It moved on its own!"

"And threw itself on the floor on its own, Noah?" she asked.

"Yes!"

She rolled her eyes at him and turned back to the chicken. He finished sweeping up the salt mess and dumped it in the trash can. He took the broom and dustpan to the pantry where he had seen Quinn grab them. Sam followed close behind him.

Noah opened the door to the broom closet, and Sam pushed it shut.

"Wait…what?" Noah asked, confused.

He tried the door again and again it slammed shut on its own accord.

"Alright Quinn, what the hell is goin' on here?" Noah called to her.

She sighed in the kitchen. She pulled the chicken off the grill and went to deal with him. She found him by the broom closet, still holding the broom and dustpan.

"Really Noah?" she said, pulling both from him and putting them away. She stomped out to the kitchen.

"Sit down and tell me what you're talking about!"

He did as he was told.

"Okay, that is all coincidence," she told him, once hearing what happened to him. She knew in her heart that it wasn't coincidence. _Someone _was jealous. "You just need to calm down."

"Fine. Let's eat," he said, slumping in his chair.

She set down their salads and put the well-done chicken and sliced tomatoes on plates.

He looked at his meal. "Wow…great job on the chicken."

She poured them both some lemonade and didn't respond to his snarky comment.

He reached for the lemonade, at the same time Sam did, and suddenly the cold lemonade was pouring down him. He jumped up from his seat for the second time that afternoon.

"Okay! Okay! Did you just see that?" he shouted at Quinn.

She tried to hide the giggle. "It looks like you doused yourself with lemonade!"

"Oh my god!" he said, stalking off to the bathroom, mumbling to himself about how that was a new Aeropostale t-shirt and somebody was going to pay for it.

Sam decided he needed to step up his game to get this jerk to leave the estate.

While in the bathroom, rinsing off the lemonade, Noah looked at himself in the mirror. His Mohawk was a mess, his shirt was ruined, this was turning out to be a huge waste of his time.

"And to think I was plannin' on getting' laid…" he muttered.

The lights went off in the bathroom.

"Now what the fuck? Quinn!" he yelled. He tried the doorknob; nothing happened. It was pitch-black in the tiny bathroom. He flipped the light switch over and over; nothing happened.

Sam tried something he had never tried before, had never really wanted to try but had heard of other spirits doing it.

"Oooooooo…Oooooo…Oooooo…." He made his voice get higher in pitch with each 'ooo'.

Noah slammed up against the bathroom door, suddenly panicked.

"Oh my god…just let me outta here! What the hell is going on?" he cried.

Sam floated up next to Noah so that he could feel the cool drift.

Noah screamed like a little girl.

Quinn heard that and came running. She yanked open the bathroom door and Noah fell at her feet, immediately scrambling back up, clutching at her.

"Haunted…this place is haunted!" he cried in a high-pitched voice. "I'm getting' the fuck outta here!"

He took off, running for the kitchen. Quinn glanced quickly at the bathroom; the lights were on, nothing was amiss. She quickly followed him.

"Noah! Noah! Stop please! What're you talking about, _haunted_?" she called after him, catching up with him at his car.

"In the bathroom…I heard it…I _felt _it! If you're smart, you'll leave too!"

She laughed at him. "The estate is not haunted, silly! That was just my friend!"

He slammed his car door and peeled out of the drive. She watched with amusement as he tore down the drive and around the curve, then turned and went back inside the house, chuckling to herself.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Specter~Chapter 12**_

To take her mind off Noah, Quinn spent the rest of Sunday afternoon doing research on the internet, trying to connect the dots between Lucinda Q Fabbrae, Samuel F Evans, Arthur Abrams, Rachel Berry, and Finn Hudson. She deduced that the five of them were friends to some degree. She found a history of Battenfield online and looked through old school pictures from the simply named _Battenfield School_. The class of 1852 was comprised of all the children in all grades. Someone had captioned the picture online with the names of the children.

She noticed that Lucinda and Rachel were side by side with the three boys behind them, all five of them smiling broadly like they were in on some secret joke or something. It was a better picture of Sam; she could see his hand resting on Lucinda's hip. She even noticed Finn Hudson's stepbrother, Kurt Hummel, in the group, looking incredibly bored but impeccably dressed.

She found pictures of Rachel Berry's father, alongside Hiram Berry, at Battenfield's only theater, along with Rachel on stage performing. There were pictures of Finn Hudson's stepfather, Bert Hummel and his son Kurt, at the wagon shop. A dark curly-haired short boy stood next to him, smiling, with funny pointed eyebrows; he was listed as _B Anderson_. She had not noticed him in the school picture.

To Quinn, they seemed to be a close-knit group of kids in 1852. It must've hit them all hard after the shipwreck and the loss of Sam and Finn. No wonder Artie felt responsible and took Lucinda and Rachel in under his wing after the tragedy.

_xxxxx_

She had been working outside on the back patio until she realized the shadows were getting longer, the breeze a bit cooler after the rain had passed, and her laptop battery was dying. She went inside and cleaned up the disastrous lunch from earlier and put together a quick supper and took it upstairs to the suite after setting the alarm. As she climbed the staircase in complete silence, she realized that living in this estate was something she could definitely become accustomed to.

She got comfortable in the suite with the TV turned on for some background noise while eating her turkey sandwich. She picked up some Xerox copies from the library research she did and stared intently at the picture of the crew of the _Lizzy Dean_. She hit mute on the TV.

"Who is with me? Who scared Noah today? Is it Arthur Abrams because I'm sleeping in your bed? Rachel Berry, again because I'm sleeping in Artie's bed? Finn Hudson? Sam Evans? Lucinda Fabbrae? Who is here with me?" Quinn asked quietly.

She had opened windows in the suite and pushed aside the heavy drapes; a gentle breeze picked up the sheers at the windows and billowed them out into the room. Quinn scooted up against the pillows on the bed and waited.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. She had no idea he was that close unless he reached out to her. He stared at her, a beautiful modern-day version of his Lucinda.

"Is it you, Artie?" she asked. Nothing.

"Finn?" Nothing.

"Rachel?" Nothing.

"Lucinda?" Nothing.

"Sam?" He reached for her hands then. She felt the coolness grip her hands, run up her arms to her shoulders.

He leaned into her then, closely, and touched his lips to hers. Her eyes slowly closed to the cool feeling.

She shivered at the feeling on her lips, knowing now who it was, knowing he was kissing her. The feeling coursing through her was icy hot…unusual yet pleasurable.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring back into a pair of blue-green eyes. She broke the kiss, completely terrified, and pushing herself up and off the bed, falling to the floor, watching the apparition of Sam dissipate without her lips on his. The look in his eyes in those brief seconds was one of worry and fear, scared that he had pushed too far. He now knew what would make him appear to her, though.

Quinn was terrified by what she had seen and what she had felt. Kissing him made him appear to her; she could suddenly _see _him. Before she broke the kiss, she had seen shaggy sandy blonde hair, those incredibly sexy yet lonely blue-green eyes, a funny nose, and full pink lips. When she freaked out and pushed herself off the bed, though, she trembled as she watched the apparition disappear into thin air. Of all the things that had happened to her since coming to the estate, this, by far, was the scariest thing she had experienced.

She pushed up off the floor and sat in an armchair in the corner of the room, her arms wrapped around herself as if she needed to be held.

"Sam? What happened?" she asked, her voice shaking and barely audible.

He floated over to her, kneeling before her. She felt the coolness on her knees, creeping upward, up her thighs, to her wrists, forearms, to her upper arms and finally resting on her shoulders. This time, she made herself relax and found comfort in the cool sensation, waiting for it to land on her lips again, waiting for him to kiss her again.

He moved his hands from her shoulders to her neck, kissing her softly. He needed her, needed her to breathe life into him.

She had to stay calm as she kissed him and he began to appear before her…she _needed _to stay calm.

As they kissed, the coolness that was his lips gave way to the warmth of his full mouth on hers…she then felt his fingertips on her skin and she hesitantly reached to him…resting her hands on his shoulders.

She could feel him.

It was intense…there was no doubt about that. Her heart pounded as more and more of him appeared before her. He was wearing a white cotton shirt, black pants, boots…what he had been wearing the night he died.

He couldn't let her break the kiss.

"Please…" he whispered, his voice cracking.

She sucked in her breath.

"Don't stop kissing me…" he said to her, their eyes locked on one another.

With his mouth on hers, he quietly murmured, "Lucindy, it's me…"

_xxxxx_

She was confused. She wasn't Lucinda Fabbrae! She was Quinn Miller.

"My name is Quinn…I'm not Lucinda…" she mumbled against his lips.

"I think you are…just look in the trunk…" he replied.

_I need to pinch myself or scream or wake up! Wake up Quinn! Wake up!_ she thought feverishly. _This can't be real…it can't be happening._

"I've missed you so," he said, moving to press against her.

She pushed her hands against his chest, feeling the cotton of his shirt.

"We're wrong…you're wrong Sam…I'm sorry…" She broke the kiss and ran from the room, locking herself in her bathroom, looking at her wild-eyed self in the mirror. "This is all wrong," she muttered under her breath.

_xxxxx_

He was disappointed…_heartbroken_…when she ran from him. He began to disappear again. Being able to kiss her again, just touch her and speak to her, had made his heart swell. He _needed _her.

"I think you scared her, Sam," Finn said, appearing alongside Sam. Sam had left the estate to not frighten or worry Quinn any more.

"It's Lucinda, though, I know it's her…she'll come around," Sam said.

"I can't believe you revealed yourself to her," Finn chuckled.

"You would've done the same, would you not? If it was Rachel?"

Finn mulled this over. "I s'pose…what was it like?"

Sam smiled. "Glorious…like nothing had changed…our connection is still there and very much alive…I just hope she comes to believe it."

Finn nudged him in the arm a bit. "I hope so too."

_xxxxx_

Quinn finally came out of the bathroom and sat on the giant bed in her pajamas.

"Sam? Are you here?" she asked the room. Nothing happened.

"I'm sorry, Sam…I-I just don't know what to do or what to think or anything…please…"

Still nothing.

"Please don't hate me," she finally mumbled, turning off the lights and TV. She lay back on the bed to try to sleep.

He was back in the room, sitting in the arm chair she had crawled to earlier.

_How could I ever hate you?_ he thought, watching her sleep. _I've loved you forever._


	13. Chapter 13

_**Specter~Chapter 13**_

Quinn woke up on Monday morning, her first thought was _did that weekend really just happen? _Thankfully, she woke up on time even though she didn't remember setting her alarm. She showered and prepared to see Will and Emma at 8 a.m. She had no sign that Sam had been in her room or near her even, so she assumed he was upset with her.

_He just has to understand…this is so much to take in and process_…she thought while in the shower. Of course, he had only left her room once during the night, to visit the trunk in the basement.

Quinn got dressed and went downstairs to de-arm the security system. She poured herself a glass of juice while waiting on Will and Emma to arrive.

Sitting in the quiet empty kitchen, she looked around, recalling Noah being there. She giggled a bit, now knowing Sam had haunted him a bit.

"I'm so sorry, Sam…please don't be mad at me," she said quietly to the silence.

There was no response from him.

Will and Emma pulled up at 8 o'clock sharp, laughing and smiling as they made their way to the side entrance of the home. Quinn met them in the kitchen.

"Good morning, Quinn! How was your weekend?" Emma asked, cheerfully.

"Good morning…it was, um, busy," Quinn replied. She told them about going into Battenfield to do research at the library and then did a little exploring. She conveniently left out the part about Noah showing up and about kissing a ghost.

"I made some headway on the people we cataloged last week so maybe we can contact family members about their belongings, see if they want to donate anything to the estate," Quinn suggested.

"Great idea! The board who oversees the property wanted at least two or three rooms on the second floor staged as closely to possible like the people who lived here, so guests would have an idea of what Mr. Abrams provided to them," Emma told her.

Will busied himself preparing breakfast for the three of them while Emma and Quinn discussed how to set up rooms for display. He wasn't all too interested in the historical aspect of the estate; he was just happy to have gainful employment.

"Sounds like you had an enjoyable weekend," Emma said to Quinn after they had their eggs and toast. "I hope it wasn't too lonely."

"No, not at all," Quinn replied, smiling. "Very relaxing, in fact. I hope you had a nice weekend off."

She noticed the quick glance between the two of them.

_They make it so obvious!_ Quinn thought, stifling a giggle.

"My weekend was relaxing…once I caught up on my own housework and laundry," Emma said, laughing a bit.

"Oh, I stopped in at the Battenfield Inn…that was nice…_al fresco_," Quinn told them.

"We like to visit there," Will started, then endured a death glare from Emma. He cleared his throat. "To eat outside, like you did."

"Of course," Quinn answered, trying to act like she had no clue about them. "Battenfield seems to be a quaint little town, very friendly people."

"Are you ready to begin our research today, Quinn?" Emma asked her.

"I am," Quinn said, smiling and following her to the basement doorway.

_xxxxx_

In the basement, Quinn of course noticed the trunk belonging to one Lucinda Fabbrae again pulled out and now opened.

_That explains where Sam Evans ran off to_, she thought.

"I thought you said you didn't do any more sorting down here?" Emma asked her, also noticing the open trunk.

"I didn't come down here at all," Quinn replied. "I think we should examine this trunk, though."

Silently and unseen behind her and Emma, Sam fist-pumped the air.

Quinn gently closed the lid and loaded the trunk, heavier than she expected, onto a cart, along with a couple other boxes.

Once upstairs in the office, Quinn set the trunk aside, not sure she was ready to explore it. She began working on other boxes.

_xxxxx_

It took a couple days for Quinn to get past her nerves to go through Lucinda's trunk. She knew Sam had been around-waiting-for her to go through it. Occasionally, she'd feel the coolness touch her, at different places around the estate or if she went for a walk or bike ride. He was always nearby. Every day that she and Emma would work in the office, it was as if the trunk was mocking her, _daring_ her to open it and reveal its contents. In a way, she was a little afraid by what she might find, but, on the other hand, she was very curious. As the days continued on past the Sunday she saw and touched Sam, it seemed more and more like a dream, a hallucination, and she began to doubt herself..._had it really even happened?_

What finally made her decide that it was time to open the trunk was a walk down to the pier one evening. She sat at the end, watching the water move with the tide, a storm off in the distance lighting up the sky. The smell of the salty water filled her nostrils and surrounded her...it was what he had _smelled _like to her...the sea. In death, he had become one with the ocean. She sat at the end of that pier, crying quietly, then felt his cool touch alongside her.

It no longer felt odd to her to speak to the openness next to her. "You're not angry with me?"

The coolness wrapped around her hand. They sat there silently until darkness took over.

_xxxxx_

"I think we should go through the trunk today," Quinn told Emma the next morning.

"It's been sitting there, just waiting on you, hasn't it?" Emma replied, as if she knew.

"I think so...I think it's time," Quinn said, pulling the trunk gently over to her desk. She entered _Lucinda Q Fabbrae _into the database.

_I wonder if she ever found out what the Q stood for_, Quinn thought, already having a very good idea.

She opened the lid slowly, the hinges creaking.

Folded neatly on top were several dresses and sunhats and gloves and clutches. There was a very nice pair of shoes, barely worn it seemed, and silk stockings and beautiful handkerchiefs. The scent of honeysuckle wafted from the trunk.

Sam was nearby, watching intently.

Quinn and Emma logged each item and took pictures of it all. It was all very fancy and well taken care of. The last item of clothing that Quinn pulled out was definitely a dress from earlier times, a navy blue coarse linen work dress, it appeared, plus a white daycap. She and Emma remarked over the handiwork; it was obviously made by hand and they guessed it dated to the mid 1850s. Quinn stood and held the dress up; she felt something _kindred _about it.

_It had fit so nicely then_, she thought...the stray thoughts picking up since she opened the trunk. Emma took the picture of the dress and daycap, and Quinn suggested they get some close-up shots of the handstitching of both. Quinn plucked a stray blonde hair from the cap and wondered if a strand of her own hair had fallen on it.

They folded the clothing back neatly and set it aside. There was more at the bottom of the trunk to go through, but they decided to break for lunch at that point. Will had chicken salad and crackers on the back patio for them, plus some chardonnay.

"It just felt like a good day for a chardonnay," he said, giggling.

_He's obviously already been into the wine_, Quinn thought. He set out some fresh veggies also. It was a cool refreshing lunch, just what Quinn needed after being in the stuffy office all morning.

"Quinn, are you sure you feel alright? You've been awfully quiet this week, today in particular," Emma said.

Quinn smiled at her. "I'm fine. Just sometimes it's a bit sad going through all this stuff that belonged to once vibrant young people...it can be a little depressing, I guess."

Emma nodded in agreement. "Especially considering a lot of this stuff will never again see the light of day or no family will ever look for it..."

"So depressing...I hope my belongings find a home after I'm gone," Quinn said, a hint of despondency to her voice.

They finished their lunch in relative silence, only occasionally remarking on the lovely weather they were having.

"Shall we?" Emma asked finally.

Quinn smiled and nodded.

_xxxxx_

Back in the office, they continued with Lucinda's trunk. The next things Quinn took out were some old books and the Bible. A couple of the books must've been from her youth, children's storybooks.

_I loved the pictures in that one_, she thought, gently turning the pages of one of them.

The other books had to do with early photography. The Bible must've been in her family as there were names and dates of birth and death listed in it. Quinn glanced through the names.

_It's beginning to make sense_, another errant thought crossed her mind.

Emma pulled out an old camera and gasped. "It's an original Brownie!" She fiddled with it easily and gently. "No film cartridge though."

Quinn pulled out a shoebox next. Opening it, she found stacks of pictures.

"I'd say she put that Brownie to very good use!" Quinn said, smiling.

_I did, I loved that camera_...Quinn was now nearly accustomed to the thoughts that she was pretty sure were not her own.

They sifted through the pictures together. Lucinda had carefully marked each one with the date and subjects involved.

The pictures were from later in Lucinda's life…the last 10 years or so. A lot of pictures were taken either in the estate or on the grounds, and Emma said that they were an excellent visual of how the home was in its heyday. Quinn noticed that some pictures were taken at the old cemetery, of a single wooden cross. There were a few pictures taken around Battenfield and some of the sea, apparently taken from the pier. There were a handful of pictures of old homes that Lucinda had labeled as the Fabbrae residence, the Evans residence, the Hudson-Hummel residence, the Berry residence.

Emma was delighted at this pictorial history, probably for different reasons than Quinn was. Emma saw an early history in pictures of Battenfield; Quinn saw familiarity in the places and faces. Slowly, ever so slowly, she was coming to terms with it. The most notable thing about the pictures, Quinn thought, was the fact that Lucinda looked just like her, except older.

Emma squealing brought Quinn out of her reverie. She was holding a book and grinning like a fool.

"What is it?" Quinn asked.

"A diary!" Emma squealed again.

"You're kidding me!"

"Not at all! We've got to transcribe this!" she said excitedly, handing it to Quinn.

Quinn opened the cover gently. Inside was written _Lucinda Q Fabbrae, 1852_. Quinn felt her heart skip a beat.

_All her private thoughts, right here_, Quinn thought.

"Let's finish going through the trunk before starting on the diary," she said suddenly.

"Of course…there's just one more ornate wooden box…it appears to be a jewelry box…" Emma said, pulling it from the depths of the trunk.

The box itself was beautiful and made from sturdy oak, carved in intricate designs. Inside, they found pieces of mainly costume jewelry…faux pearls, gold bangle bracelets, hoop earrings, gaudy cocktail rings. In the corner of the box, Quinn picked up a square of navy blue velvet and opened it. Inside the velvet lay a nondescript silver ring, twisted and bent and apparently hammered into a circular shape. Transfixed by it, she slipped it on her pinky finger.

Sam watched her slip the ring on her finger and could see the realization fill her eyes. She knew for sure now…somehow, someway, she was Lucinda.

That was the last thing she thought before she lost consciousness and her world went black.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: My apologies for the delay! I've been battling a crappy sore throat/headache/cold/sinus issue the last 2 weeks. Back on track now!**

_**Specter~Chapter 14**_

"Quinn! Quinn!" She heard the high nervous voice and someone shaking her shoulder. She heard footsteps running her way and suddenly Will was in the office too. She pushed up to sitting.

"I-I'm fine, guys…I'm sorry…" she mumbled. "Just the heat…"

"Let me go fiddle with the central air! I'll get you something cool, too," Will said, sounding just as nervous as Emma.

"Maybe I've overdone it on the research today," Quinn said to Emma once Will left the room.

"We can take a break, of course! You scared me to death, Quinn!" Emma said, putting items back in Lucinda's trunk carefully.

"I'm so sorry…yes, maybe tomorrow we can transcribe the journal," Quinn suggested. She twisted the silver ring around her pinky, then slipped it off and wrapped the piece of velvet back around it. She placed it back into the jewelry box.

Will returned with a glass of ice water for Quinn. She realized she was on the floor…she must've fallen from her desk chair…so she pushed back up into the chair, sipping the water.

"Thank you, Will, that is perfect," Quinn said to him.

"As long as you think you're okay…should we call for the doc?" he asked her.

"Oh no…no! Really, I feel much better already," she replied.

Emma closed the trunk and pushed it aside. She put her hand on Quinn's shoulder.

"You still look so pale…why don't you lie down for a bit?"

Quinn rubbed her temples and nodded. "I think that'd be a great idea…"

_xxxxx_

She curled up on the giant bed, pulling the comforter up under her chin, her head still aching from earlier. The sky was clouding up; a storm was moving in.

_Maybe that'll help rest my head_, Quinn thought. There had been so much, too much, for her to cope with that afternoon, going through the trunk. Putting the small silver ring on her finger was the final straw.

The clothing, the honeysuckle scent, the pictures, the diary, the ring…it all combined and finally made sense. Even her name. She shared it all with Lucinda. And Sam…Sam wanted her to figure this out. She needed to talk to him. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Sam?" she whispered in the darkened room, lightning flashing now and again. "Are you here?"

He was watching her rest when he heard her call his name. He floated over to the bed and sat on the edge. He touched her arm to let her know he was there.

She felt the chill, even through the comforter. She scooted over a bit.

"Lay with me…"

Hesitantly, he did so. The thunder was closer and now rain was splattering against the windows.

"Kiss me…" she said.

He moved in toward her, placing his lips on hers, and began appearing before her. The lightning made him appear bluish to her, almost glowing next to her.

"How long have you known?" she asked.

"That you're Lucinda? I just knew…"

"My name?"

"I just knew Lucinda as Lucinda Fabbrae…you're Quinn," he replied, still kissing her.

"My name is Lucy Quinn Miller…but that's my mom's maiden name…my dad's name was Fabray," she told him. They stared at one another as the storm raged outside.

"How long have _you _known then?" he asked her.

"I don't know…maybe always…I just needed help getting here," she answered.

She reached out to his broad shoulders, pulling him closer to her. At that moment, he became a man to her, not a figment of her imagination or a ghost or apparition, but a flesh and blood man.

"I said I'd wait on you…" she mumbled against his lips. He nodded, kissing her more urgently now, thunder crashing after flashes of lightning.

"I promised you I'd be back…" he replied to her, his hand reaching around her hip to her lower back.

She dipped her hands down to his waist, moving them up under his shirt, feeling his chiseled abs and the muscles working in his back. She couldn't resist any longer…she had to know.

She placed her palm on his cock. He was hard and throbbing in his pants. She rubbed him slowly over the rough material. He moaned into her mouth…he had no words for what he was feeling. She felt his hand on her back slip lower, lower, lower until he cupped her ass, then slid his hand into her panties, pushing them out of the way. He had never felt a woman so closely…who knew it'd be in the afterlife that he'd lose his virginity?

She had trouble with his trousers; they were made in 1852, after all, and she wasn't familiar with the closure at his waist. They couldn't break their kiss so he unfastened his pants and felt nearly euphoric when her bare hand connected with his bare penis. She stroked him gently, moving the foreskin down, then back over the head of his penis, making him grunt with her touch.

He finally moved his hand from her backside upward, under her t-shirt, to her bare breast. He gently squeezed her, having wanted to do this for God knew how long at that point. She was perfect to him, absolutely perfect. He ached to look down to see what he was touching but, again, knew he couldn't break the kiss. The wind picked up in intensity outside; the storm at the height of its power.

She pushed her panties the rest of the way off while he slid his trousers down to his knees. He rolled on top of her, ready for her.

"Sam…Sam…" she gasped. "Has this ever been done before?"

"I don't know…" he replied, kissing her hard, now feeling the warm flesh of her tongue against his. Her hands weaved through his hair while her knees opened and drew up alongside his hips.

It was definitely a challenge to not break their kiss. Quinn laced her fingers behind Sam's neck to hold him in place. All of their moaning and grunting had to be against each other's mouths, but Quinn found that she quite enjoyed that. She began moving her hips up to meet his, wanting him in her.

He felt the movement and felt suddenly embarrassed. He wanted nothing more to plunge into her...he had seen it done many, many times while out haunting with Finn but had never done the deed himself.

"I've-I've never..." he mumbled.

"S'okay..." she said, taking control and reaching between them to find his penis. He gasped again when he felt her hand on him.

"I always wanted this to happen with you," he said to her in the moment before he entered her.

"Me too..."

She rubbed the head of his cock between her slickened folds, and he felt himself slip in to her. Her flesh was hot and wet and swollen, wrapping around him. holding him. To her, it felt like an icy hot feeling...something she had never experienced before.

They moved slowly together at first, finding their rhythm, almost moving to the thunder and lightning pattern. Quinn found herself to be extremely sensitive, tender almost, where he was connected with her. She moved beneath him, opening her legs more, grabbing his hips to move him faster.

Unable to slow himself down at that point, he moved in and out of her quickly, his breathing quick against her lips. She knew he was nearing the end by his moaning and the jerkiness of his hips. He finally allowed himself to spill over into her, trembling as he came, feeling his own fluid coating himself and her, the scent of their sex all around them.

She closed her eyes and took it all in...how he felt above her, shy and shaking, the smell of their lovemaking between them, how his lips felt and tasted on hers...and let herself fall over the edge in pleasure. She had never had an orgasm quite like that before. For several seconds, she was lost in her own world of pleasure, every nerve ending she had felt like it was on fire in a good way.

Her breaths coming in heaves, she finally eked out, "My god, that was the best sex ever!"

No response from Sam; he had disappeared. She had broken their kiss during her climax. The bed appeared empty next to her in the flashes of lightning, now moving out over the sea. The fluid expelled from Sam was also gone; the scent of their lovemaking faint and disappearing.

Her hand was enveloped in his cool invisible touch; he was lying next to her, trying to regain his composure, as well.

"I'm so sorry, Sam...I've never felt so..._so good_...that was the most beautiful thing that has ever happened to me," she mumbled, still reeling a bit and trembling herself.

He had to agree with her, albeit silently.

She rolled to her side, facing where he lay, and fell asleep while he stroked her hair and arm...the coolness making her feel safe.

_xxxxx_

She awoke with a start, the storm having passed. She could tell she was alone in the room. She now had some sort of connection with Sam and could tell his presence when near her. She went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. _Where and what would they do from this point forward?_

Sam had left the estate to try to find Finn. He had to tell someone what had happened and find out if it had ever happened before. He finally found Finn hovering over New York City, watching a baseball game.

"Hey Sam…doesn't that look like fun?" Finn asked him.

"I need to talk to you…it's about Lucinda," Sam said, getting his attention.

"What happened? You didn't scare her, did you?"

"No! No…we-we _became one _last night," Sam said slowly, waiting for Finn's reaction.

Finn stared at him, then the realization struck him.

"You _lay _with her?"

Sam nodded. Finn looked away, shocked.

"What should I do?" Sam asked.

Finn looked back. "I'd say you need to talk to Figgins."

_xxxxx_

"Ah, Samuel, Finnick, you've returned," Figgins said, calling them both by their given names. Finn rolled his eyes behind Figgins' back.

"I saw that, Mr. Hudson," Figgins said wryly. "Now, what may I do for you two today?"

"I had a question…about a girl…" Sam began.

"Ah, matters of the heart…go on…"

"She's not just any girl…she's human but carries the spirit of my one true love…I've revealed myself to her," Sam told him.

Figgins sat up straighter and grabbed Sam by the shoulders. "Is she part of the _Rebirth _program?"

"I think so…"

"Those humans must _never _know that! They cannot know that they had a prior life!"

Sam and Finn shared a glance.

"What will become of her?"

Figgins looked at Sam sadly. "Not her…_you_. Your ability to reveal yourself to her will begin to diminish. Your connection with her will be lost."

"No…no…not again…that can't happen again!" Sam cried and disappeared.

_xxxxx_

Sam returned to the estate and sat on the bed next to Quinn as she slept. He had a decision to make…should he let her know what Figgins told him or should he disappear from her life now so neither of them would have to go through the pain of losing one another again?

He looked at her face, peaceful as she dreamed, perfect he thought. Would he be able to willingly walk away from her? In his heart, he didn't think he was strong enough to do so. They had been given another chance, against all odds, and for him to just disappear was wrong, wrong for both of them.

He decided he'd be a man and face the consequences and spend what time he had left with her. He stroked her blonde hair, seeing it shine in the moonlight.

His decision was made…he'd stay with her until their connection was no longer. He loved her with all his heart and that was that. He'd be with her until the end. He kissed her cheek; she smiled at the burst of coolness on her skin.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Specter~Chapter 15**_

Quinn woke up feeling absolutely refreshed. She felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted off her shoulders…she now understood her connection with Sam better and, admittedly, was in a very strange relationship with him but she'd think about that later. Right now, she was happy with where she was and happy with herself and felt ready to take on anything.

On her way out of the suite to go downstairs, she found a handwritten note on the table in the sitting room.

_Good morning beautifull_ it read, written in Sam's hand. She smiled and traced her finger over his handwriting, then tucked it away with the first note he left her, the one reading _Lucindy_.

She met Will and Emma downstairs with a renewed sense of energy. Today was the day they were going to transcribe Lucinda's diary.

Emma decided to read while Quinn transcribed the entries.

"It's labeled _Lucinda Q Fabbrae 1852_," Emma started.

_I took the eggs to sell to Mr. Landry and he had these journals for sale. On a whim, I bought this. Since Sam's been gone, I've really had no one to talk to. Talking to my sisters is different than talking to my soulmate._

"Oh, how beautiful," Emma said, pausing while Quinn typed. "That was written on December 1, 1852. The next entry is dated December 7, 1852."

_Today it has been 1 month since Sam's and my father's passing. I find myself thinking of them often. I miss Sam catching up with me on the way to town. I miss hearing my father whistle in the morning as he fed the livestock. I sometimes sink into a state of depression, wondering how I shall go on._

Emma waited for Quinn to catch up.

_December 14, 1852...It is bitter cold today. School is done for the term. I visited Rachel Berry at her home today; all she did was cry about Finn being gone. I tried to cheer her up by reminding her of Arthur Abrams' upcoming holiday party. It did no good._

_December 21, 1852...Still dreadfully cold. I miss Samuel every day. I dropped by to visit his family today. They grieve yet also. I braided his little sister's hair. I wondered what our babies would've looked like._

_December 25, 1852...Christmas Day. Sunny and cold. I visited Sam today._

_December 28, 1852...Attended Arthur Abrams' party this eve. He tried to kiss me under the mistletoe. It was not to be. He kissed Rachel Berry._

"Interesting!" Emma said. "Arthur seemed to be interested in Lucinda first."

Quinn gazed out the windows. _The party was a nice distraction, her dress had been pretty, Rachel was happy, but she missed Sam_, she thought.

"Now the diary goes to 1853…"

Emma read a few entries about the Maine winter, Rachel performing at the theater, and notes about her mother and sisters but then came upon an interesting entry.

_May 1, 1853…Artie told me and Rachel that he was going to build a home once he got rich for us all to live in…he blames himself for the Lizzy Dean tho we told him it was most certainly not his fault…he thinks he owes it to me and Rachel since we lost Sam and Finn…our future…_

"This is such a telling record!" Emma said, clearly excited.

_I thought what Artie told us that day was all hogwash!_ Quinn thought. _I never expected him to get that rich!_

Emma went through some more day-to-day entries, then scanned over something and handed the diary to Quinn.

"You should probably read this one to yourself," Emma said, blushing slightly.

Quinn already knew what entry it was: August 16, 1853 but it was the details of what happened one year prior.

_August 16, 1853...I am thinking of Sam a lot today. This day holds special meaning to me and I tend to think of it often. I know that as time takes my memory this is one memory I'll never want to forget so I'm writing it down to read over and over as time slips by._

_August 16, 1852...A picnic was held at the church. The entire town came out for it, it seemed. The day was hot, muggy. Mother had Frannie, me, and Bea make up bean salad and sliced tomatoes from the garden. I wore a white muslin dress with cap sleeves covered in tiny green flowers with a green sash at my waist and green ribbons in my braids. Sam was there with his family, of course. When I arrived at the picnic, I felt a tug on my braids. It was him and he smiled at me as he followed the other boys to play a game. I remember he ran his hand across my back, and I shivered at his touch even though the sun was blazing hot. His sister Stacia stuck to me like glue that day. We watched the boys play a ball and stick game, then prepared the food in the shade. Even in the shade it was hot, though. That day, Sam was wearing a white shirt like usual and navy blue trousers. Playing their game in the sun had most of the boys bare-chested when it was time for lunch, including Sam. He came up to me, sweating and breathing heavily, the skin of his chest red from the sun and shiny with the sweat. I could make out a few blonde hairs on his chest. He must've caught me staring because he rushed to cover his chest and belly again. What I had seen though was beautiful for a man. He's slim yet muscular, the muscles in his belly very defined. I blushed, and so did he, when he caught me staring at the line of hair trailing up to his belly button from his pants. I could even see his hip bones at the waistband of his trousers, even a line of tan skin against pale white skin. Oh! How I felt flushed, excited, with him standing so close by me. Once all the men were served, then the children were tended to, then the ladies could join their spouse or beau. Sam was sitting beneath a tall oak tree with Finn, Rachel, and Arthur. I sat down with them and we enjoyed our lunches. I remember laughter, so much laughter and smiles with my friends. How I miss Sam now...even Finn...even Rachel and the young happy girl she once was._

_The day continued on with more games and swimming in a nearby lake. At dark, Mr. Landry lit a bonfire and people crowded around for treats from his store. Sam and I sat together, as was becoming customary for us, but away from the heat of the fire. He had his arms wrapped around me, kissing me along my neck when we thought no one was looking. He whispered to me…want to sneak away? We hopped up and snuck off into the darkness of the meadow._

_Once we were far enough away from the bonfire, he grabbed me around my waist, dancing with me amongst millions of fireflies. It was then that he kissed me for real, not just a tiny peck on the cheek, but a full kiss on my lips. It was kiss like none other…his lips supple and warm and sweet. His hands crept up my back to my shoulders, pulling me to him. I touched my tongue to his lips and he responded._

_It was like nothing I had ever experienced...I wanted more...more of him. Somehow...I can't remember now...we wound up lying together in the grass, still kissing those wonderful kisses. He hovered over me but I pulled him close so our bodies were pressed together. Thinking back on it, I find it funny that my mother allowed me and my sisters to go without stockings that day due to the excessive heat. I jumped when his hand landed on my bare knee. He stopped kissing me and asked if I was alright. I think I nodded and went back to kissing him._

_Neither one of us knew what we were doing...we just did what felt right. He lay on top of me a bit and I could feel his manhood against me. This didn't feel wrong or sinful...it just felt right, like we were meant to be together. His hand slid further up my thigh, pushing my dress up. Slowly, he moved over me all the way. I had pulled his shirt up and was touching his belly...he was breathing heavy, as was I. He looked at me then, his eyes shining in the moonlight, and pressed his hips against mine. It was in that moment I knew I was his and he was mine...even though there was no physical connection...just in the way he looked at me._

_Using what little judgement I had left in my swirling mind, I told him we needed to wait until we were wed for anything to happen. Now, I think of how wrong I was…I should've allowed it to happen that night…I wanted him as badly as he wanted me._

_After that stare and what I said to him, he pushed against me a few times, his hand up under my dress to my backside, pressing me into him. He kissed me and kissed me, then held his breath, and trembled against me, sighing into my mouth at his moment._

_I've relived this night a thousand times since it happened. I'd give anything to have that night back._

After Quinn read it, she found herself so moved she was crying. Sam watched her as she read the passage; he had witnessed Lucinda write it originally. He recalled that night just as Lucinda had written it. He floated up behind Quinn and kissed the back of her neck. She sat up straighter at his touch and sniffed back the tears.

"It was so moving, don't you agree?" Quinn asked Emma.

"I agree. It seems to have affected you deeply," Emma said, looking at her strangely. "Do you want me to type for awhile?"

"Sure…"

There were several entries about Lucinda's sisters marrying and leaving the area, then Lucinda and her mother were left alone and Lucinda cared for her mother and other elderly community members in their final years. Scattered among these entries were mentions of Arthur Abrams and Rachel Berry and their growing, yet secret, relationship.

After a long afternoon of transcribing Lucinda's diary, Quinn retreated to the back patio to relax once Will and Emma had left. It had been grueling to relive those memories...was she reliving them? Her mind was so confused; she didn't know anymore...were they her thoughts or Lucinda's thoughts? Through Lucinda's diary, she had learned more about the misshapen silver ring...given to her by Sam the day he shipped out. They found pictures in her belongings...the original photo of the _Lizzy Dean _crew and the original class photo.

"Sam? Sam? Are you here?" she asked the silence. She heard the breeze through the tops of the trees and birds singing to one another and waited. "Please, Sam, come kiss me..."

Her voice was pleading, and it broke his heart. He was afraid, though, that the more he revealed himself to her, the quicker he'd lose that power, according to Figgins.

"I just don't understand what is happening to me...I have Lucinda's thoughts but I'm Quinn...I'm Quinn! How could I be Lucinda? Sam, please help me..."

He couldn't stand to see her in distress; he floated up to her, kissing her deeply. He began to appear before her. She wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"I'm so sorry, Quinn..." he started.

"Please tell me, Sam...what is happening?" she begged him.

"I think Lucinda's spirit is in your body..." he said.

"I feel like I've known you forever, Sam, when you're kissing me..."

"We have known each other forever..."

"I want to be with you, Sam, now and forever...how are we going to make that happen?" she asked of him. "I can't bear to lose you again."

"We will be, Quinn...you have my promise..." he replied, kissing her tenderly.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Specter~Chapter 16**_

They decided that Sam would only reveal himself to her at night, when she was alone in the estate. He assured her he was always nearby so she could talk to him and he'd hear her. Quinn seemed to come to terms with what was going on, even though she still wasn't quite sure how it came to be _her _with Lucinda's spirit. As she got to know Sam better, as Quinn, she found herself falling in love with him, much like Lucinda had. She wondered if at some point if her soul and Lucinda's spirit would combine. She wondered how she could be with Sam...there would be no marriage, no children, only seeing him at night. Was it possible to have a ghostly boyfriend?

She talked to Santana about a month into their internships.

"It sucks here!" Santana wailed. "It's hot, stinky, I'm learning next to nothing about being an actress except to smoke every meal..."

"I thought that was what models did?" Quinn asked.

"Ugh, they all do it! And I like to eat! And all the men are gay!"

Quinn couldn't help giggling. "How about the condo they put you in?"

Santana snorted. "It's a bug-infested studio apartment in a building full of condos...just one window air conditioner..._and _I have to share the bathroom with three other girls!"

Quinn made a face, though Santana couldn't see that. "How 'bout you, Quinny? Have you met any lobster fisherman yet?"

Quinn laughed again. "No, no lobster fisherman, really no men at all...just doing a lot of research..."

_Should I tell her I made love to a ghost?_

Santana grunted. "How boring! Any ghosts? Do you still think the place is haunted? Did you ever open that trunk?"

"Yes, we inspected the trunk. No, I don't believe the estate is haunted," Quinn lied. "There were some very interesting people who lived here in the town, though, like this one young couple, Lucinda and Sam...tragic love story...he died at sea and she came to live here, never married..."

"Um, Quinn, didn't that happen _a lot _to those people back then?" Santana asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"I s'pose...it's just sad to see the lady's diary and know she loved him until the day she died..."

"You're getting too attached! Do I need to come rescue you?"

"No! Of course not! And I'm not getting too attached...sheesh..."

_You are attached...always have been_...she thought.

"Well, I'm glad _someone_'s having an interesting time with their internship!" Santana said, then laughed. "Call me if you need me, Blondie...or come see me some weekend..."

"I'll try to get away...there's so much to do here," Quinn said, dreamily.

She ended her call with Santana and relaxed on the balcony of her room with a cosmopolitan, thinking of the nights she had been spending with Sam. Some nights it was passionate with him, an urgent need to be with one another; other nights, they simply talked through their kissing, getting to know one another again.

Sam had been thinking about those nights, as well, wondering when she would notice he was more faint to her, that she was not able to feel him like she had been, maybe not even hear him...when her kiss would no longer bring him alive to her.

"If we lose the ability to communicate, I'm not sure I'll know what to do," Sam told Finn one day as they floated above Quinn as she walked to town.

"Has she noticed anything different?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so."

He watched her walk down the road to Battenfield. "She looks just like she did the day I told her I'd be going on the _Lizzy Dean_…" Sam said, watching her. She wore a navy blue sundress and white broad-rimmed straw hat. "She asked me not to go." Sadness filled his voice.

"Are you going to tell her?" Finn asked him.

"I dunno yet…"

_xxxxx_

That night, Sam kissed Quinn gently, enjoying every second on her lips.

"I wish we could walk down the streets of Battenfield hand-in-hand," she mumbled.

"Me too…"

"Could you take me to the church meadow? You know…"

He smiled a bit against her mouth. "Yes, I know…I'll take you there…"

They kissed some more.

"I wish I could have your baby," she whispered.

He stopped what he was doing but didn't move his lips from hers.

"I wanted to be a father…what I would've given to be the father of your children," he said quietly to her. "I wanted to take care of you…I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You did what you did for us…I hated watching you go, though," she said, tearing up a bit, recalling the day she waved goodbye to him from the pier.

"It was such hard work, but I loved it. Knowing I was doing something to get me closer to marrying you was all I could think about," he told her.

"I found the picture taken in Portland of the crew, did you know that? It was auctioned off and Artie bought it for me. He told me I didn't have to repay him but I did," she said.

He smiled at her. "You're speaking as if you're Lucindy, yet you're Quinn."

"Her memories are flooding my memory now…sometimes I feel more like Lucinda than I do Quinn," she said, picking up the kissing again.

"I love you both equally," he murmured.

"Love me now…" she said, pulling him against her.

_xxxxx_

Sam painstakingly wrote down directions to the meadow Quinn wanted to see. He left them on the desk in her bedroom.

_From Main Street, go to Harrison, turn left.  
Go to Parson Briggs lane, turn right.  
Go to church at end of lane, the old Battenfield Methodist.  
Meadow is behind it...find largest oak behind church, then go about 50 paces north._

_Love, Sam_

She read the note he had left her, in his chicken-scratch handwriting (penmanship was never his strong suit), and smiled.

"I'll go soon to the meadow," she said to the open space of the bedroom, knowing he was nearby and listening.

_xxxxx_

For the rest of the week, Quinn and Emma worked hard on finishing the boxes in the basement. They wanted to spend the month of August preparing the rooms on the second floor for display. The boxes of the people who died during the period of time the estate served as a home for the destitute were most times nearly empty. By far, anything of historical significance to the estate was found amongst the boxes of the people who died early on. After the final box had been tallied, their database contained 152 names. They studied the data and found some interesting details.

The original home was finished by 1865; Arthur Abrams moved in shortly after discharge from his duties in the Civil War. He lived there alone but not for long. His first resident would be Rachel Berry, followed by Lucinda Fabbrae. It was assumed that it would not appear proper for Miss Berry to be living in a bachelor gent's home, alone, with said bachelor, so Miss Fabbrae moved in shortly after her mother passed, purportedly as a chaperone. Artie had additions built in 1870 (to the second floor), 1888 (the entire third floor and reinforcement of the foundation), and finally in 1902 (the fourth floor) to accommodate others who needed a place to live. Artie never charged anyone to live there but did expect people to help, if able, with a small garden, preparing meals, cleaning, etc. Anything they found written about Artie by his former residents was always that he was a very friendly man, willing to help anyone, worked hard but laughed and smiled a lot. Most people noticed the relationship between him and Rachel and tolerated her, considering her the mistress of the estate.

They also noticed that Artie liked to throw parties..._galas_, as he termed them...and it seemed to Emma and Quinn that oftentimes Rachel Berry acted as hostess of these galas. A lot of times there'd be dramatic readings or short plays performed, always starring Rachel Berry, and Artie encouraged it. It seemed to be an idyllic place to live out your final years, Emma and Quinn surmised, Artie provided what was needed, the residents took care of the residence, and there did not seem to be many issues crop up.

The first person to die there died shortly after the fourth floor was added in 1888. It was then that Artie decided to have a physician live on the premises to care for the elderly. The estate had no cemetery; that was one thing Artie did _not _want on his land. The last resident passed away in the year 1934. Quinn and Emma found that Arthur Abrams and Rachel Berry died on the same day, September 1, 1918, both eighty-two years old. They had not yet figured out the significance of that except that Rachel's last diary entry had mentioned not wanting to live out her final days alone and in misery. It was said that Arthur Abrams died peacefully in his sleep so it was a mystery of what happened. Quinn found it odd that it was also Lucinda's date of death, albeit two years later.

Emma showed Quinn the other rooms on the second floor, the ones that needed to be staged as resident's rooms. They had decided to stage a room for Rachel Berry, Lucinda Fabbrae, Kurt Hummel, and Blaine Anderson since, through documentation, they knew which rooms those four had lived in and they had items still in good repair that could be used for display, such as clothing. These rooms were on the other side of the second floor of the estate, above the front and back salons. Emma entered one of the rooms and Quinn nearly shrieked…there were several dress forms in there, faceless white mannequins.

Emma couldn't help but laugh at Quinn's reaction. "These are for the rooms, so we can 'dress' them in any period clothing we found." They moved two dress forms to Rachel's room, two dress forms to Lucinda's room, and one dress form each to Kurt and Blaine's rooms.

Rachel's room was located right next to the office. Lucinda's room had been at the corner of the second floor, next to Rachel's room; they shared a bathroom. The room was L-shaped. Of all the guest rooms, they had the two largest rooms aside from Arthur's suite. Kurt's room had been directly over the front salon, and Blaine's room across the hall from him. There was already furniture in the rooms; they just needed to add personal effects. They brought up the boxes of items and Lucinda's trunk from the basement.

Quinn felt a sense of familiarity in Lucinda's room…she knew she would. She offered to set up the room, and Emma said she'd do Rachel's, then they could check each other's work to make changes. Quinn took one of the dress forms for Lucinda's room and began rearranging the furniture. She instinctively knew where to move everything and it didn't even bother her that she had that feeling.

She chose to use two dress forms, one for the most dated outfit in Lucinda's trunk, the navy blue dress, apron, and white bonnet, and one for a more modern fancy outfit, dating around 1910. Quinn thought it appeared to be a tea dress, a chiffon of an ombre lavender in color with a white muslin bodice. She set out the Brownie camera and a few pictures, books, and jewelry…not the silver ring though. Emma told her that the room would be roped off somewhat, where the public could step up to within a couple feet of the bookshelves and clothing, not close enough to touch anything. Quinn felt very at home in the room. She set a comfortable-appearing arm chair close to the fireplace and thought what a cozy spot that had been. The thoughts weren't bothering her anymore either. She saw the first part of the L-shaped room as a sitting room, then the back half, where the bathroom entrance was, as the sleeping quarters.

A week after working on their respective rooms, Emma stopped in to see Quinn's work and found Quinn sitting in the arm chair.

"Wow…" Emma said, stepping in and taking in the entire room. "You look like you belong here."

Quinn smiled. "Do you like how I set it up?"

"Looks great…it's like you knew where everything should go…so feng shui! Come see Rachel's room!"

Quinn followed Emma down the hall a bit to Rachel's room. They decided to leave the bathroom shut off since it was not a working bathroom. Quinn was speechless at the sight of Rachel's bedroom. There was a large Persian rug on the floor and a beautiful Tiffany lamp in the corner, the lampshade in blues and greens. She had a four-poster bed, dressed in beautiful white sheers and a white comforter. Her fireplace was on the shared wall between her room and the office. Emma had chosen mainly the more modern clothing left in Rachel's belongings to use on the dress forms. Emma also had had three posters from plays Rachel had performed in framed and put on display in the room.

"It looks perfect," Quinn said. _Rachel would've loved those posters framed like that_, she thought.

"Thank you! I wanted to showcase her talents," Emma said. "Now, are you ready to set up the fellas' rooms?"

"Very much so!"

The last week of her internship would entail staging the men's rooms. Quinn knew the name of Kurt Hummel from her research at the library, knowing he was Finn Hudson's stepbrother. She recalled seeing a _B Anderson_ noted on the class photo in Lucinda's belongings and they had found a box of items noted to be _Blaine Anderson_'s in the basement. She had ventured back to the Battenfield Public Library and researched Blaine Anderson. From what she could tell, he showed up in Battenfield around the time the class photo had been taken. On the 1860 census, he was listed as living at the Hummel residence as a "boarder." He seemed to be involved somehow in the theater with Rachel and Kurt, but Quinn couldn't figure out how. In later years, he took over the Hummel repair business, though he repaired early automobiles, not wagons, and was listed as a "boarder" at the Abrams estate from 1870 until he died in 1920. Kurt had worked as the costume designer for the theater in Battenfield. In the handful of pictures they had found, it seemed these two gentlemen always posed side by side.

"They seemed to be lifelong companions, bachelors for life," Emma mused.

Kurt still had set pieces used in long-ago plays in his belongings so they used those in his room. His room had more of a flair than Blaine's; Blaine's room was more run-of-the-mill for a man of that time. They used jewel tones in blues and greens for Kurt's room for the comforter and drapes and dark blues and browns in Blaine's room. Both had queen-sized beds, two arm chairs, a desk, and a dresser. Their two rooms were the only two in that hallway plus a bathroom they shared on Kurt's side of the hall and a linen closet on Blaine's side of the hall.

"Mr. Abrams did take care of those he liked, didn't he?" Quinn wondered aloud, looking about the spacious rooms for the men.

"He did…such a wonderful generous man," Emma agreed.

_Kurt and Blaine felt indebted to Artie for letting them live together, how they wanted to, without prying eyes_, Quinn thought and shook her head at the thought.

"Well, I think we did it, Quinn!" Emma said happily, putting her arm around Quinn's shoulders as they walked down the hall to the main part of the second floor, then down to the grand foyer. "This has been a wonderful summer, getting to know you and work together on this project."

"It has been a truly unique summer," Quinn said, smiling, looking up at the chandelier. A breeze caused some of the teardrop crystals to tinkle together. "Truly unique…" she whispered.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Specter~Chapter 17**_

Emma and Quinn finished staging the last two rooms the week before her internship was to end. They spent those few days going over the database a few more times, fixing errors, tweaking it. Quinn had one more weekend to spend at the estate, then Emma would be driving her back to the airport on September 2. On her last Friday there, Will prepared a feast for them and they had dinner in the dining room by candlelight. He made filet mignon, grilled asparagus, herbed red potatoes, and fresh bread. Emma had made a cheesecake for the occasion. Quinn stirred up a batch of mojitos.

Once seated, Emma raised her glass. "To an absolutely wonderful assistant this summer. I couldn't have dreamed of anyone more perfect for this work."

Quinn blushed, thanked her, and sipped her drink. "I've thoroughly enjoyed my time here."

"The estate has seemed..." Will began, pausing to find the words. "So full of _life _since you've been here, Quinn."

"I've learned so much more than I ever anticipated," Quinn said. "The steak is _divine_, William!"

"We definitely got a lot of work done; I couldn't have done it without you, Quinn," Emma said sweetly, glancing up at her.

"I just hope it brings closure to any family members of the people who were fortunate enough to live here with Mr. Abrams," Quinn said.

Quinn tried to keep her mind off Sam and the fact she was leaving soon. It was almost too much to handle, so she pushed it out of her mind until it poked back in, usually when she'd feel a cool rush against her skin. She had noticed that even when he got close to her, not touching her, the fine hairs on her body would stand on end in his presence. It was a magical feeling for her, _electrical_, one she didn't want to lose. And Saturday she was meeting him in the church meadow.

After supper and clean up and saying goodbye to Will, Quinn retreated to the Abrams suite and began packing her belongings.

"Tonight, Samuel, I want you to think...think about how we are going to make this work after I leave here. When we meet in the meadow, I want you to tell me how you feel..."

He sat on the edge of the bed listening to her. He wasn't sure what to tell her. He had not become transparent to her-yet-and he could always follow her back to her college, but, like she had said before, there'd be no marriage or children, just her talking to seemingly empty space. He loved her, though, completely and unabashedly and wanted to figure out a way for them to be together.

"I'll think too...there has to be a way to make this work, Sam...I don't want to go back to my life as it was, without you," she said to him.

He stood up and crossed the room to her. She felt his presence near her and looked up. He took her face in her hands and kissed her gently, bringing him to life before her eyes.

"I love you and always have...I need no time to think about that," he whispered against her lips. "I'll be with you, near you, forever, Quinn. I promise you that."

Her eyes welled with tears. "I love you, too, Samuel Evans...will you wait for me?"

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the tears fall down her cheeks. "Of course I will..."

She sighed against his mouth. "Stay with me tonight?"

He nodded and broke from the kiss. She watched his apparition dissolve, amazed at how he could be lifelike in her arms and kissing her but disappeared into thin air once they were apart. He watched her as he faded, the sadness in her eyes almost too much to bear.

She finished packing most of her stuff, then took her camera down the hall to the rooms they had staged. She snapped shots of Rachel, Kurt, and Blaine's rooms, then turned her camera to the cozy L-shaped room that had been Lucinda's. She stood in the center of the room, looking around it. She then took pictures from every angle she could think of. With one final look, she sighed and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

_xxxxx_

On Saturday, she decided to walk to town to find the meadow that meant so much to her and Sam. She put on a white sundress covered in tiny flowers of every color and wore dressy yet comfy sandals and her white straw hat to shade the sun. She packed some bottled water and her camera in her backpack and set off around 11, whistling and humming an unknown tune as she strolled down the estate's canopied lane to the main road to town. Sam floated alongside her, smiling, though unseen.

The day was a beautiful Maine end-of-summer day. It was the perfect temperature, nary a cloud in the endless blue sky. There was a slight breeze stirring the hundreds of thousands of leaves that surrounded her on her walk, and, as usual, the birds chirping and singing kept her company.

She had Sam's directions memorized at this point and made it to the center of Battenfied in record time. In a vague sense, she had an idea where the meadow was located, but that memory was fuzzy and out of focus, thus the directions. She passed Carter Street, then Wilson Avenue, then was at Harrison Street. She turned left and walked until she found Parson Briggs Lane, about a mile, not much more than an alley really. The street sign even looked original, not shiny and new like the ones in the town proper. She turned right and began walking down the lane. It was tree-lined, no houses, seemingly a dead-end. The lane dipped down and then curved a bit to the left as she approached what she felt was the end. As she followed the curve to her left, the old church suddenly stood tall before her.

She stopped, sucking in her breath. She _knew_ this church. She had been at this church at least a hundred times with Sam before his demise. This was the church she planned on being married at. It was a simple white clapboard building, showing its wear of the years. The original sign was still in place, white and painted in fading black letters, _The Battenfield Methodist Church, est. 1832_. A memory flooded her mind…herself a young girl at this church, holding hands with a young blonde-haired boy, smiling. They had met here, at this church, and their young love had blossomed during meetings and sermons and picnics over the years. Of course, she saw him at school, as well, but school was all business…at church, church was social for them. It was where she learned that he loved to stare up at the stars at night, even though his father called that rubbish. He learned that she loved to have memories of special happenings in her life, how one evening while walking her home she said she wished she could take a picture of the sunset with her mind, it was so beautiful. They both loved their younger siblings and played games with them often. She learned that he loved to tug on her braid, to let her know he was thinking of her. They shared their one and only dance at this church, Christmas 1851. Together, they had attended weddings, baptisms, and funerals of their friends and church family here. They had sat with their families, the Fabbraes on the right, second pew, and the Evans on the left, fourth pew, and prayed fervently for whatever they were told to pray for. Their secret prayers nearly came to fruition on one warm summer evening in 1852, in the meadow behind the church. This church was where he first called her _Lucindy_.

Quinn didn't know how long she had been standing there…forever, it seemed. Thinking, all the memories and thoughts making her head spin. She took a few deep breaths to calm her racing heart, then started for the meadow behind the church building, looking for the largest oak tree.

It wasn't hard to miss it. It appeared to have been standing there for thousands of years. She walked to the tree and lay her hands on it, then turned to look at the church.

_The bonfire was raging that night_, she recalled, looking at the deadened area on the ground where lots of bonfires had happened.

"Sam…" she breathed. "Samuel, it's beautiful here. I wanted to marry you here."

He ran a hand down her arm, causing her to shiver. She turned and faced the meadow.

It was a large grassy meadow with wildflowers, surrounded by woods. She counted her paces, north of the oak tree…

…_47, 48, 49…50_. She stopped and turned in a full circle, taking in this sacred spot of hers and Sam's. She sat down, cross-legged.

"I loved you so much that day…" she began. "I would've let it happen, you know…but…"

He touched her hands. He knew.

"Tell me…how is that I can feel you? How can I know you're there? How is this happening?" she asked. He stared into her hazel-green eyes, then leaned forward and kissed her.

"We have a connection, Quinn," he said simply.

"Is there a heaven?" she asked. He nodded, still kissing her.

"Why are you on Earth then?"

Not thinking, his mind clouded by the heat building between them, he said, "Assuming you go to heaven when you die, you can either stay there or come back to Earth as a spirit."

She kept kissing him, grasping his shoulders and bringing him down on top of her, holding their bodies close together.

_Assuming you go to heaven when you die…_

_ …you go to heaven when you die…_

_ …when you die…_

She knew what she had to do.

_xxxxx_

She made love to him in the meadow. They were completely alone and it was right. She had made a decision and she needed this union between them to be able to carry it out.

It happened much like their time in 1852. His hand roamed up her thigh, he rubbed against her. This time, though, she slipped her panties off and unfastened his pants and let him take her amongst all the wildflowers. He kissed her hungrily through it, moaning and grunting, whispering her name when he climaxed…his lips never leaving hers.

"Quinn…oh my god Quinn…" he mumbled, rocking against her. "I can't…"

He didn't finish his statement.

"What Sam?" she asked quietly.

He opened his eyes and stared directly into hers. "I can't live without you."

She smiled a little against his lips, not breaking contact. "You'll always love me, no matter what, right?"

"Yes…always…"

"I know what I'm going to do…" she said and told him of her plan.

_xxxxx_

After she told him her idea, he broke their kiss and disappeared from her sight. She was confused. It was the perfect plan. She knew it'd make him nervous, though, but she had to tell him about it.

He pulled away from her, shaking at the thought of what she wanted to do. He had to try to talk her out of it but how?

She sat up and reached out in front of her to feel for his coolness. He gazed at her as she felt his coolness and smiled in response. He wondered when it would begin to happen…losing his connection with her.

"You should've never said anything about heaven, Sam," a voice said from behind him. Sam turned to see Finn staring at him sadly. "Now she knows."

Sam turned back to see Quinn, still sitting among the flowers in the meadow, confused. Hesitantly, he reached out to her cheek, to stroke her lovingly, and she smiled.

"Maybe I have some time before it starts happening…" Sam said, a bit forlornly.

"Wait...were you here the entire time?" Sam asked Finn, suddenly taken back at what Finn might have witnessed.

Finn had an equally shocked expression on his face. "No! I know when to back off, Sam!"

They both looked at Quinn, sitting among the flowers and still smiling.

"What is she gonna do?" Finn asked him.

"Something mad, I think," Sam muttered.

_xxxxx_

Quinn sat in the meadow for a bit after Sam had disappeared. She straightened the skirt of her dress, put her hat back on, and pulled a bottle of water from her backpack. She sat there in the quietness and contemplated her plan and how she would need to put it in motion. Judging by Sam's reaction, he wasn't too thrilled with her idea, but she knew he'd come around. It made all the sense in the world. She was so glad she had asked him about heaven and how he was on Earth.

After drinking her water, she pulled her camera from the backpack and took pictures of the meadow and church. She had been totally uninterrupted the entire time she was there. It was probably the most peaceful place she'd ever known.

The heat was building, though, and she had a long walk back to the estate. She packed up her camera and water bottle and set off toward town. She decided to stop at the Battenfield Inn cafe for lunch. She sat at what she now referred to as 'her table', a table outside on the patio so she could people watch, and ordered a bagel sandwich and her usual _Lizzy Dean _beverage. As she nibbled on the bagel piled high with cream cheese, avocado, and tomato and watched the world go by, she thought about her plan and the repercussions it might cause. There were letters to write, not easy letters she was sure, but nonetheless they must be written. She would definitely contact Santana and her mother, maybe even Noah.

A TV was on inside the establishment and constant reports kept blaring into her thoughts..._Hurricane Bea is moving up along Maine's coast within the next 24 hours! Batten down your hatches! Strong winds 100+ miles per hour! Heavy flooding rains!_

_Wait...a hurricane? Hitting Maine's coast? _ she thought, then smiled. _Ol' Bea was always a ball of energy!_ She sipped the rest of her drink, finished her sandwich, listened to the news reports of damage further down the coast, and made plans in her mind, which, she felt, were going to go much easier with this hurricane coming in. She paid for her lunch, hugged her favorite waitress goodbye, picked up her backpack, and headed for the Abrams estate.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Specter~Chapter 18**_

Walking along in the sunshine and humming, nearly skipping, she smiled.

"Did you hear that back there, Samuel? A _hurricane _is coming in! Hurricane Bea is the name...remember my baby sister Beatrice?" Quinn said out loud, hoping Sam was nearby. He was, floating alongside her. He had heard the news of the storm; he had been watching it build for some time now, bashing the eastern seaboard. He remembered her little sister, too. She had become good friends with his little sister later in life; they married brothers and moved away from Battenfield.

_Wait…she's speaking like she's Lucinda now_…he thought. He looked up and down the main road. Quinn had just left town…no traffic coming from either direction…everyone was home preparing for the storm. He floated into her path and planted his lips on hers.

His kiss surprised her, right there on the street. He began to materialize before her eyes.

He spoke before she could. "Quinn…you can't do what you're thinking. Too many people love you and would miss you. Please…for me…I'm asking you…nay, I'm _begging _you…not to do what you're considering."

Her green-hazel eyes were blazing; they met his blue-green eyes. She still smiled.

"Did you listen to me when I asked you the same thing?" She paused. "_No._"

She broke their kiss and continued walking to the drive for the estate. She glanced up at the pure blue sky, not a cloud in sight. It had not escaped either one of them that he had stopped her on the road where they had had their fateful conversation in 1852.

She continued on toward the estate.

_xxxxx_

She actually whistled along with the birds as she walked down the lane. The day was beautiful…_the calm before the storm_, she thought…and she was going to enjoy it. She had her plan in motion and she felt at peace with that.

She felt his presence near her.

"You know, Sam, not too many people would miss me, actually," she said to the open air. "I've never even met my father…and my mother…ha…she probably forgets where I'm at. I have one good friend who'll miss me, yes, but she'll understand…I'm not going to wait another lifetime without you."

He floated behind her, listening to her words. How could she think that of herself? Then again, Lucinda had been the same way…she kept very much to herself, sharing her love only with him. She had spent the rest of her life alone, keeping a relatively distant relationship with Rachel at the estate, but seemed to be quite content to be alone. Or alone with her memories of him.

_What if her idea __**is**__ a good idea?_ he thought suddenly and then wanted to kick himself for being so selfish. _She'd be with me forever…forever…_ He floated in place considering this, then shook his head, again hating himself for thinking such a thing. _Besides, there's no way I could watch her…watch her…_He couldn't even finish that thought. He glanced up ahead and saw her crossing the stone bridge, curving toward the estate.

_I need to stop her somehow_…he thought, floating to catch up with her.

_xxxxx_

She was moving down the lane at a pretty good clip, writing letters in her mind to those who deserved a letter from her. She would write one to her mother, to Santana, and Emma…she had to let Emma know. Maybe a short one to Noah…

She looked at the estate and her thoughts shattered into a million pieces.

The car in the drive was familiar. The two people hanging around the side of the estate were familiar.

_No! No! No! __**NO! **_she screamed in her mind.

The two saw her and started toward her. She picked up her pace toward them.

"Quinn! Quinn! Thank god you're here! I made Noah bring me…I was so worried about you!" Santana cried, throwing her arms around Quinn.

"Yeah, where you been? You're never here when I roll up," Noah said, looking around the grounds somewhat nervously.

"You guys can't be here…not now…" Quinn said hurriedly, her eyes skittering about. "The storm! The hurricane! You need to leave now to get back to Portland!"

"Quinn, honey, we're not leaving without you," Santana said, shifting her weight. "Come, let's get your things…we're going."

"No! _NO! _I-I have to stay…yes, through the storm…I have to stay here through the storm to ensure nothing happens to the property…I'm sorry, San, but I-I have to," Quinn said, stumbling over her words.

"You mean I drove all the long-ass way up here just to be told _no_?" Noah said, a shitty tone to his voice. Quinn and Santana both glared at him.

Quinn grabbed Santana's arms, almost in a frenzy. "You must get back to Portland! It's safer there! I'll meet you there after this storm passes through, okay? How's that? I'll have Emma drop me wherever you're staying, okay?"

Santana stared at Quinn for the briefest of moments. "Are you okay, Quinn? You seem…_jumpy_."

"I'm fine, San! The storm has me a bit nervous, but I'll be fine…I always am…Seriously, though, you two need to get back on the road before they start traffic restrictions," Quinn said to them, trying to calm her voice.

"Babe, you gotta anything to drink in there? Maybe a little somethin'-somethin' for lunch? This boy here is starvin'!" Noah asked, seemingly unaware of Quinn's odd behavior.

"Uh, yeah, sure. C'mon in…I'll show ya around, Santana, you'll love it," Quinn said, ushering them inside after she unarmed the security system. She thought if maybe she hurried them up inside she could get them to leave easier.

Sam, of course, watched this with interest. The Noah guy was definitely a jerk. Her friend seemed genuinely concerned about her, though.

"Wow, Quinn, this place is gorgeous!" Santana said as Quinn rushed them into the side foyer.

"You think so? I think it's creepy as hell," Noah added.

Quinn led them into the kitchen. "There's stuff in the fridge; I'm just gonna run my backpack upstairs, then I'll give you a tour before you leave."

She rushed off, seemingly distracted.

"What the fuck is up with her?" Noah said, then snapped. "The ghosts finally got to her!"

"Would you stop Noah! There are no ghosts!" Santana said, rolling her eyes.

Sam watched their interaction with interest.

Noah strode over to the refrigerator and began digging around inside it.

"Oh thank Buddha...booze!" he said, pulling out the pitcher of mojitos.

"Listen, what're we gonna do? She won't go with us...she wants to stay here for some ungodly reason. Should we tell her now?" Santana said, lowering her voice and walking over to join Noah at the fridge. She placed her hand at the small of his back.

Noah looked at Santana, his eyes half closed, munching on a leftover bratwurst and swigging mojito straight from the pitcher. "That's what we came here to do, right?"

"Could you at least swallow your food before speaking to me?"

"Could you at least stop being a bitch for 2 minutes?"

Sam was definitely interested in this interaction.

"You'll think _stop being a bitch_ when I ride you hard later," she purred, sliding up against him.

"You know you love it," he said, still chewing.

"When you stop eating, I do love it," she said, nibbling at his neck.

"We oughtta do it here somewhere...in this haunted castle..." Noah mumbled, finishing off the brat, then grabbing her ass.

_And this girl was supposedly Quinn's __**friend**__?_ Sam thought.

"I don't think there's time...Quinn really seems to want us to go..." Santana said quietly, looking up at him, tousling her fingers in his overgrown Mohawk.

"I really don't want you to go...I'm not supposed to have guests," Quinn said from the doorway of the kitchen. Noah and Santana sprung apart quickly. "Is there something maybe you two would like to share with me?"

The room was silent until Noah gulped another bite of bratwurst down. Santana approached Quinn.

"Um, yeah, there is something we wanted to tell you. I didn't feel right telling you over the phone or in a stupid email...I wanted to come see you. And so did Noah," Santana started, glancing back at Noah who rolled his eyes ever so slightly. "This summer, Noah came to visit me in New York...then again...and then again...and something just..._ignited_...between us. He said it was over between you two and you had told me that too. I honestly didn't want to hurt you, Quinn. Noah's what I've been looking for, though."

Again, the room sat in awkward silence until Quinn broke out into a huge smile and hugged Santana tightly.

"I'm so, so glad you came to see me, San...you just don't know. And I'm happy for you two. Noah needs someone like you in his life," Quinn said, smiling at them both genuinely. "I'm not hurt or angry...just happy. C'mon, let me show you around real quick..."

Quinn disappeared into the butler pantry while Santana and Noah shared a quick confused glance. They were prepared for anger, possible hysterics, not smiles and happiness from Quinn.

She showed them the dining room and the balcony breakfast nook that she had enjoyed a few times during her stay. Then, she took them to the grand foyer where Santana was in awe of the design and colors. Noah just looked bored since he had already seen this area during his last visit. Standing in the foyer, gushing over the chandelier and front entryway, the French doors to the dining room slid closed with a soft thud. Quinn, Santana, and Noah stopped talking, looked at the doors, then Santana and Noah looked at Quinn. Quinn shrugged.

"Sometimes that happens," she said cheerfully. "Onto the front salon!"

Sam slid open the dining room French doors and followed the trio into the salon. Noah promptly took a seat on the antique settee, dust billowing up around him. He began sneezing and hopped up.

"This place _really _just does not like me," he mumbled.

Quinn then took them to the back salon and again Santana remarked over the room and the patio.

"It's so nice to eat out there of an evening," Quinn said, thinking of her meals with Will and Emma. She felt a chill on the back of her neck and giggled, knowing Sam was touching her there. Santana looked at her funny.

"Are you okay, chica?" she asked Quinn.

"Mhmm…" Quinn replied. "I need to show you the rooms upstairs that we worked on."

She grabbed Santana's hand and pulled her from the back salon and out to the staircase.

"C'mon, you too, Noah!" Quinn called, noticing he was lagging.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…" he mumbled under his breath.

"So, Quinny, you've been here alone, at night, all through the summer? And that never freaked you out? Even with the things moving on their own?" Santana asked her.

"It took some getting used to, I'll leave it at that," Quinn said, smiling. "This is Rachel's room…"

She showed them Rachel's, then Blaine's, and then Kurt's room, saving Lucinda's for last.

"And, this…this is Lucinda's room," Quinn said, opening the door with a flourish.

Santana and Noah took it in, listening to Quinn as she pointed out pictures and books and the clothing. They didn't appear any more interested than they were about the other rooms.

"Well, you've done your job well, Quinn. Why don't you go ahead and finish packing and come with us? Aren't you tired of being here all alone?" Santana asked her, incurring a look of wrath from Noah.

"San, I might be alone but I'm not lonely," Quinn said, smiling. "Really, I'm okay and I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow. I have a few loose ends to tie up, and, like I said, I need to stay here through the storm moving in."

"Dude, this house is not going anywhere," Noah snorted. Santana rolled her eyes at him again.

"He's right, Quinn. Come with us…you don't need to be here alone through a freakin' hurricane," Santana tried again.

Quinn led them out of Lucinda's room and quietly shut the door behind her. She led them to the staircase.

"I have to stay…no ifs, ands, or buts about it, guys…sorry," she said, looking back at them sadly.

They walked to the kitchen and stood there awkwardly.

"I really wish you'd just come with us, Quinn. I don't feel right leaving here without you," Santana said to her. "I've missed you all summer."

Quinn teared up a bit. "I've missed you, too." She hugged her friend goodbye. "I'll be fine and I'll see you soon, okay?"

Santana brushed a stray tear from her cheek and sniffed. "Fine…have it your way."

"Noah…take good care of her, will ya?" Quinn said to him, taking his hand in hers. He pulled her into a giant hug.

"I will, Quinn," he whispered into her hair. For probably the only time in their relationship, she felt true emotion from him.

"You two need to get your butts down to Portland, okay? I need to, well, _batten down the hatches _here!" Quinn said, laughing with them.

She followed them to Noah's car, hugging Santana one last time, then waved them off down the drive.

She had things to take care of now that they were gone. She returned to the house.

In the kitchen, she leaned up against the counter, cleaning up Noah's bratwurst and mojito mess.

"Finally Sam! We're all alone!" she whispered into the silence.

He leaned up against the counter next to her. He tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, watching her smile at his touch.

He could think of nowhere else he'd rather be than with her.


	19. Chapter 19

_**Specter~Chapter 19**_

When she told Santana and Noah that she had to _batten down the hatches_, she wasn't lying. After cleaning up the garage, she went to the garage where the Phantom was parked and closed the shutters on those windows. She went to the front patio with Will's gardening cart and loaded up anything that could blow away or break, same with the back patio, and stored it all in the garage. She returned to the house and went around the ground floor, closing the hurricane shutters that Will and Emma had told her about. Once she was satisfied with securing the house, she armed the security system and retreated to the suite.

Thinking about the news Santana and Noah had shared with her, as well as seeing them together in the kitchen, had miffed her a little bit but she didn't let it get to her. She hoped they got to Portland and found somewhere safe to stay. She had bigger, more important issues to face...namely, writing a letter to her mother.

In the suite, she turned on the TV to a Portland news channel so she could listen to the weather updates as she pulled her belongings together, packing them neatly in her bags. The storm was expected to begin barreling up the Maine coast within hours. Quinn watched the maps and radars; it would be upon Battenfield by the next night. She opened her laptop to start her letter to her mother.

This letter was somewhat difficult to write as Quinn and her mother had never really been too close. She loved her mother but never could get close to her, her mother always seeming cold and distant toward her. Even while she had been on this internship, her mother had only contacted her a couple times to check on her. Quinn always got the impression from her mother that her existence had been a mistake. She had not meant to get pregnant with Quinn; it had been an accident. Her mother made no attempt to hide that fact. Her mother also refused to let Quinn see her father, but it wasn't like he had tried to see her either. Until this internship, Quinn was pretty sure her lot in life was to go at it alone...that's how she was raised. And then Sam came into her life and her existence made sense. She was aware that anything she told her mother about Sam would make her sound like she had lost her mind so she left him out of the letter.

During one of her shopping excursions into Battenfield, Quinn had picked up some fancy paper at the stationery shop. She took it to the office and loaded it in the printer, then printed her letter. She signed it in pen and put it on the desk in the suite. Sam floated over to the letter and read it, giving him some more insight as to why she made the decision she did. He glanced over at the blonde-haired girl, who was humming as she folded her clothes, and he ached to be able to kiss her all over.

He floated over to her and touched her cheek. She looked up, and he kissed her. Slowly, he began to appear.

"I understand," he said to her. "Why you wanna do what you wanna do...I-I'll be there for you."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "You mean it? You'll be there with me?"

"Of course…this sounds selfish of me, but I want you for myself," he said quietly, moving his lips against hers. "Are you scared?"

She closed her eyes. "A little but knowing you'll be with me, then no."

They continued kissing, he mumbled _okay_, and she wondered what it would feel like when the day came she could touch him, talk to him, _be _with him forever.

"I need you, one more time, tonight…" she whispered against his mouth, pressing against him, walking him back to the bed.

He felt the bed behind him and sat back, picking her up and letting her straddle his hips. She felt his length enlarging beneath her. Still sitting up, he used one hand to hold her and one hand to unfasten his pants, releasing his manhood. She had one arm around his shoulders, the other hand working her bottoms off.

Still lip to lip, kissing, she adjusted herself over him and he lay back slowly.

"It's never felt so good, Sam," she said to him. "It's incredible with you."

"What if it's different, you know, after?"

"If it is, then it is…I'll still be with you," she replied, working herself up and down slowly until he finally pushed up into her.

"God, Quinn, uhhh…" he groaned, thrusting quickly against her. "You're incredible…"

She moaned and writhed on top of him. His penis fit into her perfectly, and, leaning over him to kiss him, enhanced everything about their lovemaking. She was swollen and wet and pressing hard against him. Her tummy tightened, her toes curled, her breath quickened.

"Oh, oh Sam, you're making me come…ummm…" she whispered, then squealed a bit and tightened around him, making him smile.

He moved her hips on top of him, grinding into her hard and fast, his smile turning to a frozen kiss against her lips.

"Come hard for me, Samuel," she whispered.

He groaned and held her still against him. She could feel him pulsating inside her, filling her with his seed. Once it had passed for him, she began moving on him slowly, letting his catch his breath once again.

"That was beautiful, Sam…"

"You're beautiful…"

She knew what happened next, what always happened after their lovemaking. He pulled out of her, they broke their kiss, and he disappeared. Even though she knew he was right next to her, always, it was still a lonely time, one that she wanted to spend with him, basking in the afterglow of their time together.

"I just want to be able to lay next to you after we make love, Sam, and hold your hand and just feel the love between us…" she said into the dark stillness of the room. She felt the coolness fall over her hand. "I love you so much…"

_xxxxx_

The rest of the night she spent watching the news reports of the hurricane making its way up the coast. It would pass near Battenfield at around 6 pm the next day. Emma had called to make sure she was okay, and Quinn updated her on the precautions she had taken to ride out the storm. Emma said to contact her if there were any problems; otherwise, she'd see her the morning of September 2 to drive to Portland.

Before turning out the lights for sleep, Quinn called for Sam to come kiss her. He touched her face to let her know he was there, then placed his lips on hers.

"What should I wear tomorrow?" she asked once he appeared before her.

He thought a moment then said, "The navy blue dress…"

She smiled, gazing at him as they kissed, then her smile began to fade. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"I can barely see you…" she said sadly.

"When I told you how I was on Earth, I began to lose my spiritual connection with you…I promise I'll be by your side all day tomorrow," he said quickly.

"I won't be able to see you when we kiss anymore?"

"No…I'm so sorry, Quinn," he said to her.

Sadness crept over her face as she took that in, then she smiled the best she could. "I know you'll be there, Samuel."

They kissed until he disappeared from her sight.

_xxxxx_

Quinn woke up on the morning of September 1 surprisingly well rested and in a chipper mood. She had breakfast and checked the news for the storm reports. She cleaned the suite, even washed the bed clothing. She ventured outside and noticed the wind had picked up and clouds were moving in from the south. The storm was approaching, even increased in intensity to a category 2. She expected to feel nervous but strangely felt at peace with her decision, especially after talking with Sam about it. She put her packed bags and purse by the desk where the letter to her mother was lying in an envelope. She then enjoyed the rest of her day watching mindless TV, relaxing on the giant bed. As the day progressed, the wind picked up outside, causing the estate to sound eerie to her for the first time.

As more clouds moved in, the room darkened. She finally turned off the TV, got up, made the bed, and took the navy blue sundress from the hanger in the wardrobe and lay it out on the bed. She then stood naked in the bathroom and did her hair and face lightly, smiling at her image in the mirror. She was on her way to meet her destiny.

She slipped the dress over her head, naked underneath for she would need no undergarments.

She could hear the storm raging outside, and she knew it was time. She had to retrieve one last item from the basement before she left though. Downstairs, from Lucinda's trunk, she took the small silver ring from the jewelry box and slipped it onto her left ring finger.

"I'm ready, Sam," she said and slipped up to the kitchen and out the side door.

He had been by her side all through the night and all through the day, watching her every move, watching for any sign that she was second-guessing her decision. He saw nothing in her that showed she had swayed any in her plan. He followed her outside.

_xxxxx_

Once stepping outside, a gust of wind pushed her back up against the wall. She was somewhat unprepared for the strength of the gusts and the rain pelting her face. It literally stung her skin.

It was as dark as night already, thunder and lightning happening almost constantly overhead. She felt the coolness of Sam snake down her arm, letting her know she wasn't alone.

"I'm doing this Sam!" she screamed about the wind and downpour. "For us!"

She made her way from the drive to the front of the estate, finding the pathway that led down to the edge of the bluff. The wind was behind her until she got to the path, then it was pushing at her right side; she felt Sam to her right.

"The meadow Sam! Meet me...at the meadow!" The wind nearly took her breath away; her yelling was carried away. He heard her, though. He stroked her cheek and in all the tormented weather she smiled.

She began her walk down the path. She thought of her growing up in Lima, Ohio, with her mother. Her final hope was that this action didn't bother her mother too much...she wasn't sure how her mother would react. She thought of kids she knew growing up, when she had been a cheerleader, her old boyfriends in high school. She thought of her days in college, how much she loved her field of study, how much she had learned interning at the estate. She thought of Santana and even Noah. The weather seemed to mirror her feelings about them, angry and out of control, but she let those feelings go. She was on her way to be with Sam.

And Sam. She thought of the blonde-haired boy with the big smile, so happy that he would be marrying his lifelong love soon after his return home though it was not to be. Sam, an apparition come to life, whom she had inherently loved, knowing deep her in soul that she was meant to be with him. In her mind, she pictured him walking next to her, making this journey with her.

The trek to the ocean was difficult in the weather. She was soaking wet, cold, her dress ripped in places, her hair matted to her face. She reached the edge of the bluff, nothing between her and the ocean below. Now, she waited. Waited for the gust that would carry her to her demise.

_xxxxx_

Sam clung to Quinn's right arm as she made her way down the path of the front gardens of the estate. He could tell the storm was building dangerously as they neared the end of the path. Even though she was being battered by the storm, to him she looked radiant.

He felt a swell of wind that nearly picked her up off her feet. She tottered on the edge of the bluff, glancing down at the rocks and the waves crashing into them. All she could hear was the roar of the storm. Yet, she still felt his presence, just like he said, he wouldn't leave her side.

Behind him, he could hear the hurricane at its full force and he did the only thing he knew to do...pushed himself into her.

The suddenness of his presence within her caused her to squeeze her eyes shut and revel in the ecstasy.

The center of the storm slammed into her, lifting her easily from the ground. Eyes still closed, experiencing complete joy in her final moments, she was thrown from the bluff's edge. And in those few fleeting moments, she floated carelessly, Sam's spirit within her, until she plummeted to the rock outcroppings at the ocean's edge.

Her world went dark.

_xxxxx_

It was strangely quiet, the air around her devoid of sound. And, oh god, the brightness. She squinted her eyes to see where she was going but it was just bright. Her feet seemed to know where to take her; it felt like she was just gliding along slowly. Eventually, she realized she wasn't alone. Other people's forms began to take shape in front of her, next to her, behind her, all around her, obscured by bright white fog...all heading in the same direction.

They seemed to fall into a line, and she waited patiently. She glanced down at herself. Her navy blue sundress had seen better days. She lifted the torn, sullen material, shaking her head, and then noticed the gleam of silver on her left ring finger. She lifted her hand and stared at it, willing herself to know what it was.

_Where am I? Am I alone? I hear nothing, I see nothing, I feel nothing_…she thought, not yet confused, just at peace.

The line moved quietly, seamlessly, and she finally picked up on a low hum, a comforting sound that made her feel at ease. Without too much fanfare, she was suddenly face-to-face with a man who appeared to be many, many ages old, so old she couldn't even put a number to his appearance. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

"And you are Lucy Quinn Fabray?" he asked, his voice deep and resonating within her.

She nodded. "Uh, Miller, my last name is Miller."

"Your father was a Fabray…I just need you to sign here and you may enter."

"Enter?"

He gestured grandly behind him, beyond the Pearly Gates. "Why, heaven, my dear."

She glanced down at the silver ring again and it all came back to her.

_xxxxx_

"Sam?" she whispered, approaching from behind him.

She hated that it took her so long to become accustomed to being a spirit. She had to practice transporting herself from point A to point B. Passing through people and objects at first made her head spin, but she finally got used to it. She finally got to the meadow and he was there waiting, like he said he would be.

He heard her whisper and turned, seeing her approach him, slowly, hesitantly. He smiled at her, feeling almost awkward, as if they were meeting for the first time.

She floated up to him, taking him in with her eyes. She finally reached up and touched his cheek. She gasped.

"I can feel you!" she said breathlessly.

He pulled her into an embrace. He held her for some time, stroking her hair, touching her everywhere, then finally he kissed her.

"I've been waiting so long to kiss you," he mumbled to her.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get here," she said, resting her forehead against his.

"Tis fine…I know it takes some time to get used to it," he replied. "But, you're here now…and for always."

She nodded. "Yes…together. Thank you, Samuel, for being with me that night…I had no fear, no pain…"

"Anything for you, my dear. Come, let's go home…"

He took her hand, and they floated from the meadow, through Battenfield, to the Abrams estate.

He led her to Lucinda's room.

"Here, we shall live here," he said to her.

"Perfect, Samuel…" she said, following him to the bed.

Lying next to him, watching him watch her, made her cry. He brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm so happy…I've never been happier, Sam…"

He picked up her left hand and kissed it softly over the silver ring. "Neither have I, Mrs. Evans…"


	20. Epilogue

_**Specter~Epilogue**_

_The Battenfield Times-Tribune_

_September 1, 2012 – Miss Lucy Quinn Miller (Fabray), 21, resident of Fredericksburg, Virginia, of late, born in Lima, Ohio, died in a tragic accident at the Arthur Abrams Estate. She had most recently completed a summer internship at the estate for her studies at the University of Mary Washington where she was a junior. A daughter of Russell Fabray and Judy Miller, both of Lima, Ohio, Miss Miller lived her life as one who was constantly learning and always curious. She is survived by her parents. Private arrangements for her interment at the old pioneer cemetery in Battenfield have already been completed. Memorial donations may be forwarded to the Arthur Abrams Estate._

_xxxxx_

Judy Miller held the letter in her hands, crying softly.

"She didn't even write it in her own hand…" she sobbed to the man sitting across from her. "I just don't understand."

She held out the letter to him.

_Dear Mother,_

_Being at the Abrams estate for my internship has given me so much time to think. And I think it's time we cleared the air. We've never been close and I sense I've always been an anchor to you, dragging you down to the depths of despair. How many nights I heard you weeping alone, too many to count, and it broke my heart, knowing I was the cause of your unhappiness. I know it probably doesn't matter now, but, for what it's worth, I'm so sorry I ruined the best years of your life. I tried to be the best daughter I could for you, to make your life easier and to make you proud, but I'm not sure it helped._

_On this, the eve of my last evening at the estate, I wanted to let you know that if anything ever happens to me, please contact my father and clear the air with him. It's been too long and needs to be done. I would've liked to have known the man, please let him know that. Also, I wanted it to be known that if anything happens to me, I'd like to be buried at the old pioneer cemetery in Battenfield. I felt a kinship to that burial ground and that is where I would prefer to be interred when the time comes._

_As my internship comes to a close, I'm not sure where my life will lead me. Wherever I go, though, I'm sure to find my own happiness._

_With all my love, Lucy Quinn_

"It sounds as though she planned on leaving after her internship, maybe not returning to school? Had she met anyone in that little town? A boy?" Russell Fabray asked Judy. "But all that talk about her burial…" He shuddered.

"No boy, not that I know of…what was she doing out in that awful storm though? I just don't understand!"

He moved over next to her and held her shaking figure.

_xxxxx_

Quinn had to admit that being a spirit was fun, especially with Sam and Finn. Finn had come to visit them at Lucinda's room at the estate and consequently took up residence in one of the rooms on the upper floors. They decided it was nice to have a place to call home even though they traveled extensively.

Sam and Finn showed Quinn how they harmlessly haunted Will and Emma. She had to admit, though, that once Sam brought her to the Abrams estate, she was saddened to see how distraught Will and Emma were over her "accident." She penned a note to Emma and left it in the office.

_Dearest Emma,_

_I will forever be grateful for my time spent at the estate, learning from you. I learned a lot about myself, as well. Whatever happens after my internship is over, I'm sure to be happy. Take care of William…you two are perfect together!_

_Love, Quinn_

Emma found it a couple weeks after the accident and cried at reading Quinn's words. Quinn watched over her, wishing she could reach out to Emma and hug her.

What Sam and Quinn found interesting as they watched Will and Emma together was how much they reminded them of Artie and Rachel.

"Do you think it's possible, Sam?" Quinn asked him one day as they watched Emma acting for Will. "Now that I'm on your side, I see so much Rachel in her."

They referred to Quinn being with Sam as her "being on his side" now, as opposed to saying "now that I'm dead and with you."

At this particular time, Quinn sat upon Sam's knee, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"I totally think it's possible…do they know it, though?" he asked her.

"I think they sense a connection to one another, a connection that goes deeper than just their romantic relationship," she replied.

Sam and Quinn watched Will applaud Emma's performance in the back salon, then he took her in his arms and spun her around the room.

"They're so happy…" Quinn said wistfully.

"As am I…"

Quinn kissed him.

_xxxxx_

Although they were ecstatic about being together again, they found one thing to be missing and had even talked to Figgins about it.

"I'm sorry, but it is impossible for spirits to have children…only humans procreate," he told them.

Sam squeezed Quinn's hand.

"What about adoption?" Sam asked him. "A stray spirit?"

"I've never heard of that being done," Figgins responded.

"We yearn to be a family," Quinn added.

Figgins looked at them sadly. "I'm so sorry."

Back at the estate in their room, Sam held Quinn in his arms on their bed as she cried quietly.

"There has to be a way, Quinn," he whispered into her hair.

_xxxxx_

For several years, they lived together and enjoyed every single day, always thankful to have been given the opportunity to reunite. It wasn't easy for Quinn to get past not being a mother to Sam's children but eventually the urge faded and she enjoyed her time with him.

Until the day Figgins showed up at the estate with a squirming bundle in his arms.

"I pulled some strings with St. Peter…this babe was stillborn. I knew you two wanted a child so I was granted approval to place the child's spirit with you. His name is Timothy. St. Peter told me that this child will grow to be an adult spirit and you two are responsible for his spiritual care," Figgins told them.

Sam and Quinn stood there dumbfounded by this news. Quinn finally held out her arms for the baby. She pulled the blanket from around the child's face.

Instantly, she was filled with love for the infant. He had a head full of brown hair, a perfect nose and ears, rosebud lips, and hazel eyes, like hers. Sam reached over to the bundle and the baby took his finger. Sam laughed at the baby's touch.

Figgins told them who the parents were and where they were located. Quinn insisted on seeing them. They found them grief-stricken at the child's grave. Quinn and Sam both wanted to be able to connect with them but were unable to. After the parents had left, Sam picked some wildflowers and left them on the gravesite.

Their days were now full of taking care of this infant, which meant they entertained him most of the time. They found he loved to hear them sing so that's what Sam and Quinn did.

They watched the boy grow into a man and were able to be parents in the spirit world. They treasured their time with Timothy and with one another.

Some nights, they'd float out to the pier and watch the waves roll in and back out.

Sam would hold Quinn's hand, sometimes sing to her, sometimes just be silent. One night, he asked her, "Do you ever regret doing what you did? To be with me?"

"I would do it a million times over, Samuel," she said quietly, pushing up on her toes to kiss him. "You promised me you'd come back for me and you did. I came to you."

"I love you, Lucy Quinn," he whispered, kissing her back.

"I love you, Sam…"

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I loved writing this story. :) As to Quinn writing a letter to Santana and Noah, she didn't since she saw them the day before her "accident." Also, the thought of Quinn committing suicide might keep her out of heaven crossed my mind and I decided to leave religion out of it. But, hey, it's fiction...all make believe! At least in the end, Sam and Quinn got to be together. :) Will be posting my new story soon...told from Quinn's perspective. :)**


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